Nya's Story
by MoKat
Summary: Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian and Wes Janson recruit Hobbie's childhood friend and her roommate to join the Rebellion… or is it the other way around? - Expanded Universe, X-Wing, Rogue Squadron, Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, OFC's.
1. Chapter 1

_The Star Wars universe is owned by George Lucas. Wes and Hobbie were created by Michael Stackpole in the X-Wing novels and comics. Further specific background material regarding Ralltiir, Governor Dennix Graeber, the Resistance leader Jerrell and his unnamed second daughter, and a Resistance fighter named Spike comes from "The First Core World," __Heroes & Rogues__, West End Games, 1995 and "Into the Core Worlds," by Paul Sudlow, __Star Wars Adventure Journal, Vol 1, No. 7__, West End Games, 1995._

_(Be warned: this story turned out a little more Harlequin Romance than I wanted it to be. But what can I say? It's a guilty pleasure and I don't want to scrap it. Also - the story is finished, but it's not finished the way I originally intended it to be. It's definitely not an ending that fits canon. It was always intended to have a tragic ending, but every good romance requires a "happily ever after" doesn't it? Turns out I am a wimp who just couldn't kill off her own characters...)  
_

_**Circa 1ABY: A few months after the Battle of Yavin, immediately before the Ralltiir scenarios in Rogue Squadron III: Rebel Strike…**_

**_-oOo- _**

"C'mon, Nya, we need a break." Spike groused at me as she got up to throw her empty caf cup into the cleanser, unconcerned with the drops that splattered across the floor. "You've been buried in that stang datascreen for six hours now and this holo-sim is boring me to tears. Let's do something _fun_!"

"This is fun," I said patiently. Rinni Spikkoli – better known as Spike to her friends, her enemies and just about anyone who dared speak to her - was a woman of decisive action and had no appreciation for my kind of excitement. "Besides, I just made it in and stole all the goodies. I'm still unwrapping them."

Spike started jogging in place and doing stretches in the kitchen. "C'mon! I'm going to fall asleep and waste all this wonderful free time our beloved Emperor so graciously affords his lowly Privates."

"Don't mention him," I growled. "You'll spoil my dinner." I stabbed the datapad interface peevishly, unpacking the last file I had swiped out of Maar's so-called private account. I allowed myself a mental sneer at my boss's incompetence. It shouldn't have been so easy to slice his commail and datafiles, but I guess intelligence never was a job requirement in the Imperial Navy. Unfortunately, none of these files told me what I needed to know.

"What dinner? I'm starving. You didn't even notice it's time to eat." Spike was good at pouting, but the truth was she was right. I hadn't. The twist in my stomach at her mention of food reminded me that even my skinny bones needed a little bit of nourishment now and then.

"Well, I am hungry." I admitted. "And I'm a little stumped at the moment. I need to come up with another approach."

Spike grinned, pressing her attack. "I have found that a good method of generating new ideas is to _not_ think about anything for awhile."

I peered at her from behind my datapad and wrinkled my nose doubtfully at her. "Is that why you do it so often?"

Spike didn't bat an eye at the sour jab. "It'll do you good to get your mind off of it."

I thought about it for a moment, wondering what my father would do if he hit a dead end. What was it he said? _If the data doesn't tell you what you need to know, go to the source of the data._ Well, talking to Maar about it was out, but I decided I could set a trace analytics program running and by the time we got back from dinner, it would be done and I would have plenty to chew on for the rest of the night.

"And when you come back fresh, I'm sure you'll find the evidence to send that… Hutt slime… to Kessel… for a very… long… time." Spike was doing push-ups on the floor.

I snorted. "I've had that for a while. Not that the Empire will ever do anything about it." I pointed at the holo display showing a list of cargos and manifests from the spaceport. "He has to be getting this information from somewhere. Maar's just an unimaginative desk jockey, albeit a venal one. He couldn't slice this on his own. Besides, he wouldn't know what to do with it even if he could. Somebody higher up is calling all the shots, I know it."

"No spit? Imagine that. Imperial corruption. Who'd of thunk it?" Spike's sarcasm could slice a nerf steak.

I sighed deeply, unsure if she was trying to make a point about my decision to pursue Maar. This was our first derivation off-mission and while I had to give her credit for not questioning my call, I could tell she would have made a different choice were it up to her. "I have to do what I can, Spike."

She was right, though. The corruption within the Empire seemed to be inexhaustible. Corrupt officials created corrupt policies that corrupted the average government worker trying to crawl their way to the top of the corrupt trash pile. If I thought about it too much I would probably literally fall over from the dizziness. But it was just too depressing to look the other way when it was happening right in front of me.

"Just do what you think is right, but keep in mind we need to be moving on soon." Spike was busy finishing her stretches and I didn't think she had noticed my defensive tone. "And don't let my cynicism get you. You know I got your back."

Comments like that always reminded me why Spike and I were friends instead of just partners. Maybe she was rough and boisterous, but she was also the most loyal and supportive person I had ever met. My father had chosen our team well.

I set the trace analytics running and then secured the interface with my own encryption algorithm. I stood and stretched away the tension that had built up. My scalp itched and I realized that my hair was once again frizzing horribly out of control. I cursed the baby fine hair I'd never grown out of. I'd take shiny, thick black hair like Spike's any day over this white-blonde wimpy mess.

"I guess I could do with some cleaning up, but I'm not much in the mood for your so-called _fun_," I warned Spike.

"The least we can do is get a bite to eat and a little lomin ale to wash it down. Who knows? Maybe we can even get lucky." Spike grinned and waggled her eyebrows at me, her mind quickly focusing on her favorite pastime.

I groaned. "You are such a horn dog." I trotted back toward the 'fresher we shared in our apartment. It wasn't far. The apartment was tiny, but at least it was private. I never could have conducted the analysis of the files if I lived in the barracks. I had made sure that my status as Assistant Logistics Clerk to the Imperial Garrison Commander gave me certain privileges – this apartment being one of them.

"It's effective stress relief!" Spike yelled at me from the kitchen. "All the holo-rags recommend it!"

-ooOoo-

An hour later Spike and I headed out the door anticipating an evening of relaxation and fun. At least, Spike was anticipating fun and relaxation. I was trying to but if I was honest, I'd have to admit my brain was still grinding through the maze of requisitions, invoices, transit documents and inventory lists that I had pilfered off of Sgt. Maar's private comm accounts.

Spike was much better at compartmentalizing than I was. In boot camp, she was the one to blow off the verbal taunts and harsh treatment while I stewed for days. It wasn't easy being a female in the Imperial Navy and I had wanted so badly to prove I could do it. The truth was I don't think I would have made it six weeks if it hadn't been for Spike calming me, cajoling me, encouraging me. I owed her big time.

"Let's go to Dead End Cantina." Spike suggested as we hailed the nearest autocab.

I looked at her in astonishment. I didn't owe her that much!

"Oh, c'mon, Nya." Spike used her best coaxing voice. "Where's your sense of adventure? Live in the moment, I always say!" She laughed teasingly at me, her tongue literally and figuratively in her cheek.

"We're not living dangerously enough for you?" I growled incredulously. "There's smugglers and bounty hunters and… and lowlifes there!"

Spike grinned. "Yeah!"

"Spike!" I had put up with a lot from Rinni Spikkoli. She had dragged me to innumerable parties, talked me into playing practical jokes on admittedly deserving colleagues, and introduced me to the fine art of creative cursing. I had even learned to enjoy most of it. But this…

"I just think we need to get away from the Imperial Garrison." She was using her I'm-the-tactical-security-expert-here voice now. "I'm sick and tired of their hypocritical elitism. Give me an honest to goodness lowlife any day. Believe it or not, I'll feel safer away from the Garrison tonight."

The autocab arrived just at that moment and we climbed in. I grabbed the navpanel before Spike could and punched in the Market District.

"I see your point, Spike, but there is no way I'm going to Dead End Cantina. That place makes me nervous. There are plenty of seedy civilian joints we can go to and find hot non-Imperial lowlifes."

"Fine. You're such a spoilsport." Spike leaned back with mock indignation. We made a good team. She stretched the boundaries and I kept them from breaking. I'm pretty sure she recognized that. "Market District it is."

The Market District on Albecus consisted of a large open-air field full of tents and tables that were more or less permanent, depending on the season, the vendor and the mood of the local marshalls. It would be closing up now with all the tents being shuttered and the tables magically emptying for the night, but the action was only moving, not ceasing.

Surrounding the central field on three sides were old buildings, many dating back to the Old Republic era. A strip about three or four streets deep was comprised almost entirely of dining, drinking and assorted entertainment establishments.

I'd been here once or twice with Spike before and I knew it was unlikely we would run into Imperial soldiers in those establishments. At least, none that would admit they were Imperial soldiers. The fourth side of the Market District was the Albecus Primary Spaceport… and that meant all manner of beings congregated in the Market District after they docked from whatever far-flung planet they hailed. Proper Imperials stayed away because of all the non-humans. It wasn't officially off limits or anything, but Spike and I understood the message early in our training. Humans ruled the Empire and didn't mix with non-humans.

"That looks good." Spike pointed to a building at the end of the street. The neon lights above the doors screamed the name of the establishment and loud techno music pulsated from the door. Humans mixed with Twi'leks, Ithorians, Bothans, and even a few Rodians outside the building, waiting to be let in. It looked like a popular spot.

"Maybe later," I said. "First I'm hungry." I stopped the autocab a few buildings short of the nightclub and tapped my cred code into the navpanel. "And you're buying."

Spike grunted but got out of the autocab smiling. She looked down at the nightclub with eager anticipation then followed me into the tapcafé I had chosen. The plastiscreen in the window advertised a wide menu of human and Ithorian quisine and had an ale list a parsec long. Just what I needed.

The tapcafé was narrow but deep. The patrons appeared to be mostly Ithorians but several humans were interspersed in the groups. There was very little chance any of them were Imps. A bar ran down one side with holopanels lining the wall behind it showing everything from the local shockball teams to Mon Cal opera. The unique stereophonic vocalizations of Ithorians vibrated the air around me and penetrated my skin pleasantly, producing a slight tingling sensation that I found quite soothing. Booths ran the length of the establishment on the other side with tables crowded in between. All the tables were occupied so I hoped that meant the food was good.

We took a seat in an unoccupied booth toward the rear. As usual, Spike insisted on sitting where she could see the door. I had long since learned to comply with her security precautions.

The baked fuli grass was particularly good. Being partial to non-carnivore meals myself, I always enjoyed authentic Ithorian dishes. I was halfway through and nursing my second lomin ale when Spike let out a piercing squeal that nearly caused me to choke.

"What? What?" My heart thumped explosively and adrenalin surged my senses. My first thought was that she was hurt somehow.

She didn't look hurt. Spike's face was lit with the biggest grin I had seen on her face since she won the ale chugging contest at basic, beating all those arrogant, smug excuses for men that the Empire was training for Stormtroopers. This time, though, the grin wasn't followed immediately by her eyes rolling back in her head and her body going thunk on the ground as she passed out.

Spike squealed again as she jumped up from the booth. Her wide eyes were fixed on the entrance to the tapcafe. I twisted in my seat as she suddenly bounded down the narrow corridor between the bar and the tables. Belatedly, my hand went to my holdout blaster as I guiltily realized I should be prepared for anything.

I followed her down the crowded aisle and watched her jump full body onto a wiry man that had just entered the tapcafe. He was grinning, too - an adorably lopsided grin full of genuine affection and indulgent delight at seeing Spike. It was the kind of smile that brought pressure to the back of my throat wishing it was directed at me.

"Hobbie!" she screamed as he let out an oomph and crouched slightly to support her weight, just barely preventing them from falling ignominiously on the floor. Spike's legs encircled his waist and she smothered his face with loud, smacking kisses. The man had his hands full of a giggling, bouncing, squealing Spike but he was laughing and hugging her back.

I was relieved that she obviously knew this guy and she wasn't crazy, but jeesh, Spike can make such a scene! I discreetly replaced my small holdout blaster, chagrined by the shakiness I felt. I had been trained for situations like this but until now, I had never actually had cause to test that training.

Despite my embarrassment I noticed that Spike's friend also had company. A dark haired man stood a step behind them with a rakish grin matching Spike's on her best day. His square jaw and broad shoulders were carried with a cocksure ease that screamed "Party Boy" with capital P, capital B.

Exactly the kind of guy Spike liked.

Just great, I thought with a dramatic surge of self-pity. Two guys for Spike and none for me. This was Spike's revenge for failing to be ready to back her up, a sardonic voice said in the back of my mind.

It was just as well. Part of my brain was still trying to decipher the puzzle of Maar's files. I'd be perfectly content to cuddle up with my datapad all night and nothing more.

Sure I would.

"Rinni Spikkoli, get off me!" The man sounded annoyed but the effect was ruined by the lingering delight on his face. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Derek Klivian, you stop your grumping right now and enjoy yourself!" Spike set her feet down on the ground but didn't release her hold on her friend. "Oh! I can't believe you're here!" She let out another squeal as she hugged him tight.

Her friend laughed at her excitement. "I can't believe _you're_ here. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, you nerf herder. If you read your commail, you'd know that! Why don't you ever comm me?" Spike reached up and playfully patted his cheek before her eyes looked past him to the dark haired man looming cheerfully behind him.

"Well, hello, handsome. Are you with Hobbie?" Spike flirted shamelessly.

"Hell, no. Hobbie's with me." the dark haired man smirked.

"Is that so?" countered Spike. "So I have you to thank for bringing him here?"

"Yes, ma'am. Exactly." The man nodded his head vigorously. "You should thank me. You can thank me right now if you like." The man held his hands out in invitation.

Spike let out a loud, hearty laugh and slapped Hobbie on the shoulder. "I like this guy." She leaned in near Hobbie's ear and demanded, "Introduce me."

Hobbie sighed in resignation and for the first time I noticed that he was looking at me. Soulful brown eyes focused on me and my throat tightened at the appreciation I saw in them. Maybe there was something to be said for Spike's 'live in the moment' kind of _fun_ after all.

I felt a flush of warmth on my cheeks and knew I was blushing. How embarrassing.

I blushed some more.

"Rinni Spikkoli, Wes Janson. Wes Janson, Rinni Spikkoli. Don't call her Rinni. She hates it. Everyone calls her Spike." Hobbie grabbed Spike's arms so he could move her bodily around him and back to where his friend Wes was. It also cleared the path between him and me. "Now introduce me to your friend."

Spike was busy cooing at Wes in greeting but she looked over her shoulder distractedly. "What? Oh, Nya, this is Derek Klivian. We call him Hobbie. Hobbie, this is Nya Ollinal." A subtle smirk replaced the grin she was wearing and she cocked her chin back toward us. "You two are my best friends in the whole world. You should really get to know each other." She turned back to the man named Wes Janson. "And I would really like to get to know you."

I intervened before the man could reply with what I was sure would be quite the suggestive come-back. "Why don't we all go sit down. We have a booth right back there. I'm sure you guys must have intended to dine?"

The men looked at each other briefly and nodded their agreement. They followed me back through the narrow path between the tables with Spike making sure she was directly in front of her chosen prey, doubtless so he could get a good look at her backside. I didn't think she would need to try very hard tonight, though. The guy looked like he was ready to jump her right there on the floor.

I, on the other hand, was studiously trying to avoid looking at this Hobbie guy so I could catch my breath. I felt his presence closely behind me, though, sparking tingles all the way down my neck and back that didn't help my efforts in the slightest.

I slid into the booth first and was surprised when Hobbie boldly sat beside me. Spike took the inside of the other bench with Wes beside her. A stab of trepidation spiked through me as it suddenly occurred to me that we were trapped in the booth. I hoped Spike knew this guy as well as she thought she did. Her best friend, she had said. And a delicious best friend he was indeed.

"So, Spike… he's your best friend?" I pointed at the dark blonde haired man beside me and wrinkled my nose at her teasingly. "How come you haven't mentioned him before?"

Beside me, Hobbie frowned. "You haven't mentioned me? Figures you'd forget about me." The man looked positively forlorn and I couldn't restrain the giggle that emerged.

"Sure, you remember, Nya. This is the Hobbie that set Director Cartligh's pet mynock loose in the Education Center's library and blamed me for it. I told you that story."

Hobbie sputtered beside me and his eyes shot arrows at Spike. "It _was_ your fault! You said I was supposed to take it out to feed it and then you opened the doors for it!"

I looked at him thoughtfully and feigned a struggle to remember. "Is he the one who lost his pants to a wild canoid when you went hiking on Mt. Toosis and decided to take a dip in the mountain lake?"

Hobbie flushed a deep red and Wes let out a loud guffaw.

"Yep, he's the one!" Spike said in a deeply satisfied tone. "He had to walk all the way home in his underwear." She turned back to her friend. "See, Hobbie, I have talked about you!"

At Hobbie's groan, Spike impulsively reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Oh, Hobbie! I've missed you so much! Where have you been?" she demanded. "Why haven't you commed me?"

For a moment, Hobbie looked uncomfortable and glanced at Wes for support. A look passed between them I caught but didn't understand. Then he relaxed and returned Spike's sentiment. "I've missed you too, Spike. I've been out of touch for awhile, I know. When did we see each other last? It's been two years or so, hasn't it?"

Spike nodded. "The last I heard you were having a great time at Prefsbelt Fleet Camp. Somebody told me you graduated at the top of your class. Then poof! I heard nothing. Are you serving the Empire in some classified capacity now? I'd understand if you tell me you can't talk about it."

I startled at that revelation and was immediately on edge. An Imperial agent? It would be a crying shame if this lovely man was an Imp loyalist – or worse, an Imperial agent.

Hobbie shook his head. "I don't work for the Empire anymore." He rubbed his left arm ruefully. "I had a few hard luck missions. Lost an arm and a leg and got a terrible infection. It took me several months to recover and by then the Empire wouldn't let me fly TIEs any more."

He looked at Spike pleadingly. "You know how I love to fly. I couldn't see pushing flimsi's around so I've been taking piloting jobs wherever I'm needed. That's why I've been out of touch."

It sounded like there was a lot more to that story but Spike let it pass.

Hobbie leaned back and smiled while waving jauntily at Wes. "This here is my gunner. Wes and I have had some pretty good adventures together. It's not like flying TIEs but we still get a kick out of it."

Spike's face was shocked as she reached over to touch his arm. "You lost an arm and a leg? Stang, Hobbie, why didn't you tell me? I'd have been there for you!" She grabbed at his arm to examine it closely. "I can't even tell. That's a pretty stang good prosthetic."

"Well, you had your own path by that time, didn't you?" Hobbie peered at her intently now. "You never could stand authority but now I hear you're some sort of Stormtrooper? How did that happen?"

Spike let out a very unladylike snort. "Who told you that load of mynock glop? Stormtrooper? As if!"

I waited expectantly to hear how she was going to play this. I trusted her to make the right decisions regarding our security. I tried to look supportive, hoping she understood I would follow her lead, wherever she took it.

She sighed deeply and I could see her forcibly calm herself. "You know the Empire accepts only the best and brightest for the Stormtrooper Corps. There are plenty of other ways women can honorably serve the Empire."

Hobbie's mouth hung open as he stared at Spike in disbelief. "You are Rinni Spikkoli, right? The same Rinni Spikkoli who beat the crap out of our star Shockball cornerback? The same Rinni Spikkoli who could shoot a flutterhawk in midflight from 100 meters away?"

"The same Rinni Spikkoli who believed the garbage the recruiter told her about noble and glorious service to the Empire!" she snapped back. "The same Rinni Spikkoli who fell for all the lies the Empire told! Big, fat, Hutt slime liars!"

I gasped at her outburst and kicked her vehemently under the table. "Ow!" she said grumpily. "Nya, what'd you do that for?"

I looked at the two men sitting next to us and was shocked to see satisfied expressions on their faces. "Spike honors the Empire, don't you, Spike?" I hurried to explain. "She means no disrespect. She's just had a very rough day and she gets snappy when she's hungry. Isn't that right, Spike?"

Spike sighed again and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "It's alright, Nya. Hobbie knows what a mouth I have. He knows I just spout off in frustration."

"Now that's the Spike I know and love!" Hobbie nodded in agreement and smiled encouragingly. "Tell me what happened."

"It's all your fault, actually, Hobbie." Spike started. "You always drove yourself harder and had to be the best at everything you did. Then when I heard you were doing so well at Prefsbelt and there I was wasting away in a boring, dead end job, I decided I should try a little harder too. When the Empire secured Ralltiir I knew I needed to do what you did and join the effort to bring order and stability to this crazy universe."

"So I went to the recruiter and signed up for the Stormtrooper training. The recruiters encouraged me, told me I would be working with the best the Empire had to offer, promised I would be fighting for the glory of the Empire, and then stuck me as a doorman for impenetrable blocks of duracrete."

"I can barely say I'm a security guard since they don't even give me a decent weapon. More like a receptionist. I check ID's, keep a log of comings and goings and smile pretty when anybody important walks by. It's a load of bantha dung!" She finished in disgust.

"You don't even get a weapon?" Hobbie puzzled, sure he had seen her wearing one earlier.

"Not a real one." Spike pouted. "Oh how I miss my EE-3 carbine. These E-11's they give us troopers are just crap. One shot and their zero is frizzed. Now, my DL-44 blaster – that would be a worthy weapon! It can pierce heavy armor at 75 meters with an accuracy to match." She sighed and smiled sadly. "They promised to train me on a Deece Weapons System. That was what really sealed the deal for me. They lied about that, too."

At her side, Wes made a choking noise as he listened to her recital of her personal arms cache. "A weapons expert? You know blasters? Oh, be still my beating heart, I think I'm in love!"

I couldn't help it. I stifled a giggle as Spike turned her sultry almond eyes on him. Watching those two was going to be fun. I could tell already they were a perfect match.

"I wouldn't say expert since the Empire didn't live up to their end of the bargain and train me. More like… an enthusiast." She made a show of running her gaze contemplatively over his form, from his dark, slicked up hair to his broad shoulders and trim abs under the tight black t-shirt he wore. She let her gaze return only after being unable to continue further due to the intrusion of the table under which the rest of him was tucked. His delight at her blatant appraisal gleamed in his dark eyes and I could swear he was swaggering despite his seated position.

"So, you're Hobbie's gunner? Ship weapons are considerably bigger than hand blasters, aren't they?" The subtle challenge was not lost on Wes.

"The same principles apply," he agreed. "A steady hand on the trigger and a flawless sense of timing will prove the advantage every time."

I watched the banter between Spike and Wes, awestruck at their mutual command of the basic language in their pursuit of well-crafted sexual innuendos. I was pleased that she had found a kindred spirit with whom to discuss what I called her weapons fetish and their magnetic attraction to each other was ridiculously obvious, but I couldn't shake the worry about what these men weren't saying. I knew they were hiding something, I just didn't know what it was. I sighed as it occurred to me that everyone always had some sort of hidden agenda, even sexy childhood friends. What a depressing thought.

"Blaster love. Ain't it sweet?" Hobbie interrupted my reverie by leaning over and whispering to me.

His proximity impelled me to take a good look at him out of the corner of my eye. His dark blonde hair was short just like a TIE fighter pilot's would be. If he really wasn't in the service anymore he had at least kept the hair style. He had a pleasant face though. Not at all like the sneering, contemptuous faces I was used to seeing wear the uniform.

A strong jaw, heavy eyebrows and smoky brown eyes gave him a sincere, unpretentious look, though he did seem to wear an adorable perpetual pout. I noticed that the shirt he wore was tight enough to reveal lean yet strongly defined shoulder and pectoral muscles. There was absolutely no sense of imperiousness about him at all.

I relaxed and chuckled at his comment. "They do seem to be quite the pair, don't they? Spike always did know how to pick them." I was having a hard time imagining this likeable guy as an Imperial agent but better safe than sorry.

"Oh, I don't know. She's had her moments. That star Shockball cornerback she beat the crap out of? She really just wanted to dance with him but didn't know how to ask. So she picked a fight with him instead. Needless to say, she never did get to dance with him."

I snickered into my ale. "She has improved her approach a little bit since then, I guess. Though she still picks a good fight now and then, too." I tried not to smirk but couldn't resist. "We've had a lot of good times, together, Spike and me. She's a very good friend." I wanted to make my loyalty very clear.

"Yes, she is."

I wasn't sure whether he was trying to reassure me or if he was just making small talk so I decided this was a good time to probe for more information. "So, how long have you and Wes been friends?"

"For a while. He's a good guy."

"Do you trust him with Spike?"

Hobbie snorted. "I'm not sure which one of those two to warn about the other. They're two peas in a pod."

"They probably will be tonight, anyways." I couldn't help grinning lasciviously and it was Hobbie's turn to snicker in his drink.

"And what about you?" Hobbie turned his attention to me. "What do you do? How did you meet Spike?"

"Basic training." I gave him our rehearsed answer. "I'm from Ralltiir, too – Demilla City, near Salibury. We were the only two females in our training squad. She got me through some tough spots."

"And you work here on Albecus with her?"

"We signed up for the buddy program after basic training and have been here for a couple months now. I'm an assistant clerk in the Supply & Logistics office of the Imperial Albecus Command."

"A clerk, eh? What kind of clerk?"

"Oh, nothing special, really. Supply requisitions, parts fulfillment, invoices… stuff like that." I didn't want to talk about my job, especially not now. "I can't imagine how exciting it must be to be a pilot. You were a TIE pilot?" I made sure my eyes were wide with wonder and that he saw only the hero worship in them that the Imperial Propaganda Ministry encouraged.

"Not for long. Now it's mostly just freighters and shuttles and such."

"Still, it must be exciting."

"It can be. Wes and I have had run-ins with the occasional pirate and maybe even a planetary official or two. Though I'll deny I said that if you repeat it." His eyes twinkled but I could tell he was testing me.

If I was reading him right – which I think I was but couldn't be sure - he just admitted to doing some smuggling. That might explain what he was hiding. I wondered if he saw me as a threat since I was an Imperial trooper or whether he was testing my loyalty. I needed to talk to Spike and find out how much she trusted this guy.

But first, my curiosity got the better of me.

"What kind of cargo do you transport?"

"Just about anything anybody pays us to. Everything from droid parts to mulba wood to people. We've even hauled some Tattooine worms once. That's what we're doing on Albecus, actually. Picking up a load of those droid parts I was talking about."

That was interesting. The latest shipment Maar had scheduled was largely composed of droid parts. It could just be a coincidence, though. Droids were ubiquitous, after all. However, if Hobbie was a smuggler and he was hired to transport some of the missing supplies, then he might be able to shed some light on what was going on. If I could get his trust.

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"GL-88 Gyro stabilizers. Why?"

"Like the kind used for binary loadlifters?"

"Yes, I think so. Again, why?"

"Oh, nothing. I've just been seeing a lot of those requisitions going through the office lately. I wish I knew what it meant."

"Why, is that unusual?" Hobbie was curious now.

"Where are you supposed to deliver it?"

"My, my, you are a curious one, aren't you?"

Oops. I smiled my most bubble-headed smile and nodded enthusiastically. I let a little giggle escape for good measure. "Um-hmm. I sure am! I just get so dreadfully bored with my job, I like to imagine what all those parts and cargo are being used for and where they are going. I've never been able to travel much. That was another reason I joined the Imperial Navy. I'd love to see Imperial Center, for example. Have you ever been there?"

Hobbie looked as if he didn't know quite what to think about me, but he went along with my change of subject. Maybe he thought I was weird. That was fine. Better that than the truth.

"Yes, once while at Prefsbelt we cadets were given an organized tour of Imperial Naval Headquarters. We even had an audience with the Emperor, along with about 5,000 other people."

I gasped. "The Emperor? How was that?" I couldn't stop the shudder before it got out. I hoped Hobbie didn't notice how much the Emperor scared me. He was just the creepiest being I had ever seen. Something just wasn't right about him.

Hobbie was looking at me carefully. His face wore a careful mask of neutrality. "Oh, you know. There were so many people, it wasn't much different than seeing him on the holonews." He cocked his head curiously. "You don't like the Emperor?"

Gulp. Now I was in trouble. "Hush your mouth!" I slapped him playfully on the arm. "I absolutely honor our great Emperor. The New Order has saved the galaxy from chaos and war. I serve the Empire with gratitude." I spoke the platitudes I had forced myself to memorize.

The waitdroid arrived with the dinners at that moment and saved me from my ineptitude. I was so grateful for the distraction that I forced down more appetizers despite being full and washed it down with another whole ale – which gave me a good excuse to speak privately with Spike.

"I have to hit the 'fresher. Spike?" My eyes pleaded with her to go with me.

"Sure," she said. Wes and Hobbie slid out of the booth and let us ladies pass. Wes gave Spike a pat on the butt as she did and Spike giggled in response, but Hobbie stood way back from me. He probably thought I was a nutcase.

The 'fresher was empty so thankfully we could talk freely. I turned on her immediately.

"How much do you trust him?" I demanded urgently.

"Relax." Spike was distracted, probably with thoughts of Wes. "We're safe."

I slumped back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

"Great stars, Spike, he's gorgeous but I'm sure he thinks I'm a total dork." I admitted. "Plus I think he's hiding something."

"I know." Spike said simply, as she primped in the mirror.

"You know?"

Spike stopped adjusting her makeup and looked at me in the mirror. "I can read Hobbie like a book, even after all this time. He's not a very guileful man." She shrugged. "I'm sure he has a good reason."

"You trust him then? You believe his story? You don't think he's an Imperial spy testing our loyalty?" I gulped the questions rapidly.

Spike laughed merrily. I could tell the lomin ale was buzzing her. "Hobbie? No, I guarantee you he is not an Imperial spy so stop worrying about that."

She paused thoughtfully. "He can lie, though, when he needs to. There was this time in Upper Ed class that he had the teacher believing that his household servant droid had malfunctioned and eaten his assigned projects three times in a row." She laughed again before getting serious. "I'm not sure what his full story is but I trust him. He would never betray me – or you. He really was my best friend. We went through a lot together."

I looked sideways at her. "He hinted that he might be smuggling."

"Really?" Spike's face lit up impishly. "I like that idea."

"Spike!"

When she just kept on smiling, I continued. "He might be carrying some of the missing shipments I've been tracking."

"You think he's working for Maar?" That made her frown.

"I have no idea. That's the problem. I'm just sure they're hiding something."

"You like him?" Spike asked hopefully. "I think he likes you."

"Stop changing the subject. Besides, I doubt that." I was embarrassed now. "He mentioned the Emperor and I turned into a big goofy gungan. You know I'm no good at this flirting thing. He didn't even try to cop a feel when I got out of the booth."

"Yep, that's my Hobbie. He's a gentleman, Nya. That's why I thought you two would hit it off. You're both such serious, honorable people. Blech! Give me a bawdy gunner any day!" Spike's eyes glazed over as her eyebrows waggled up and down. "I like this Wes guy – a lot. I hope he's as good in bed as he thinks he is."

"Spike!" I rolled my eyes. "You are such a horn dog!"

"Look, Nya, we're safe. I trust Hobbie and he trusts his friend, so I'm not worried about it. Just relax and enjoy the moment. Don't mention what we've been doing and it shouldn't be a problem." She turned and grabbed me by the shoulders. "I would like to have a nice evening with them and then we can corner them tomorrow about it. Tomorrow morning. At our place."

I got the picture. "I don't think Hobbie's that interested in me and I'm certainly not going to throw myself at him, but he can sleep on the couch if you like." I grumped. "That puts my analysis back some since I won't be able to look at it until they are gone."

"That's my girl." Spike smiled at me and then squealed with excitement. I grinned. How could I begrudge her some harmless fun?

"You really do like this guy, don't you?" I laughed at her emphatically nodding head all the way back to the booth.

Spike didn't give Wes a chance to get up and let her in, but instead climbed right over him to get to her seat. I heard a muttered "Stang, girl!" and a returning mock innocent "What?" before I turned away, unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile.

Hobbie had already stood up from the bench, but he was holding his hand out to assist me in getting back into the booth. I took it and was surprised at the warmth that radiated from his touch. He smelled nice, too. He had that faintly ionized smell many pilots seemed to have overlaid with a basic clean, soap smell. I wanted to pause for a moment and enjoy his scent but that would have just been too weird so I scooted over and settled back into the seat.

Looking down at the empty table, I asked, "Did the waitdroid remove the food already? Do we want desert?"

"I want to go down to the nightclub down the street." Spike shimmied in her seat, bumping suggestively against Wes.

I groaned. "Couldn't we just get a few more drinks here?" I didn't relish the idea of dancing awkwardly with Hobbie out of obligation while Spike and Wes flirted, or worse yet – watching Hobbie pick up somebody else while I sat alone. Despite my friendship with Spike, our approaches to men were drastically different. Essentially, I didn't have one.

"I'll go if Nya will dance with me." Hobbie offered.

"Really? You want to dance with me?"

Spike burst out laughing. "Nya, you're hopeless!" she snickered. "Let's get out of here."

We made our way down the street and stood in the waiting line with several dozen beings. Spike and Wes were already taking every opportunity to touch each other. Wes even had his arms around her once, demonstrating the proper posture for some weapons hold or other. I'm sure Spike appreciated the lesson.

Hobbie turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist. My natural suspicion had been mollified by Spike's confidence in her friend so I decided to take her advice and just enjoy myself the best I could. We discussed pleasant memories of our mutual home world, Ralltiir, mostly, and I listened to his descriptions of the worlds he had seen. I told him of some of the exploits Spike had dragged me into and he commiserated with stories of his own.

Neither of us mentioned the terrible destruction the Empire had brought to Ralltiir.

I found myself disappointed when we made it to the front of the line and entered the noisy, dark nightclub where it was too loud to carry on a decent conversation. When he took my arm in one hand and put his other hand to the small of my back to guide me through the crowd, a delicious shiver ran up my spine. I discovered that all concerns about Maar and his files and our security had fled, replaced by a giddy eagerness I hadn't felt very often before. The Empire's invasion and occupation of Ralltiir had come during my senior year of University. Before that, my father had kept me busy with enough investigations and research that I hardly had time to think about anything else. Since then, I hadn't wanted to think about anything but defeating the Empire and freeing Ralltiir. Tonight was turning out to be quite different.

We found a tiny booth and squeezed in while Wes got us all drinks at the bar. We had barely started sipping them when Spike pulled Wes out onto the dance floor. After an awkward moment of silence between us while we sipped our drinks, Hobbie surprised me by grabbing my hand and leaning over to whisper loudly in my ear. "You know what? I don't like the Emperor either."

I must have looked really unattractive with my mouth hanging open because he grinned and reached up to gently push my jaw shut. His touch was shockingly intimate, squeezing the breath right out of my chest. Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over my lips. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he pressed the index finger of his other hand against his own lips in a "shh!" gesture.

Wes and Spike returned then and we took our turn on the dance floor. He was a surprisingly good dancer. He moved smoothly and assuredly with no sign of stiffness or worse, smarminess. I decided he must work out or play sports because he was obviously quite athletic.

We danced through several songs, not speaking but just enjoying the movement of each other. I maneuvered on the floor so I could run my hand across his biceps and up his shoulders. He was lean but solid. No softness on him. He responded by wrapping his hands around my waist and matching my hip movements with the music.

We matched each other well. He was a good lead and I was a good improviser. The final swing pulled me into his arms and he held me tight as he dipped me gracefully. He held the dip longer than normal, a heart-stopping moment when his face was just inches away from mine and his eyes wandered down to my lips. I breathed deep, my chest on fire, thinking he was going to kiss me, but he just put me back on my feet and squeezed my hands as the music faded into the next song.

We made our way back to the booth for a rest. I walked in a daze after that dip. Hobbie didn't look affected, though. He carried himself with an imperturbable composure that spoke of instinctive grace and experienced proficiency. I got a little worried, wondering what I was doing. He was Spike and Wes' friend, after all. While he didn't have the rhetorical swagger that they did, his efforts to charm were unmistakable.

And effective.

This had seldom gone well for me in the past.

"That was nice," he murmured in my ear as I slid in the booth ahead of him. I glanced at Spike and noticed her lips were slightly swollen and her top a little askew. It was obvious she and Wes had already started going at it and Hobbie hadn't even kissed me yet. After that dip, I knew I wanted him to.

_Kriff it! _I swore to myself. Spike wasn't worried about our security and this guy was incredibly tempting. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself, too? One night of harmless fun wouldn't ruin anything. Our mission would still be there in the morning.

I stopped short on the bench so Hobbie had to snuggle close to sit fully on the seat. He didn't seem to mind and put an arm around me. Now I was grateful for the high volume of the music because that meant I had to get really close to his ear for him to hear me.

"That was fun!" I said. "Where'd you learn to dance?"

"Spike taught me," he replied, equally close to my ear. "Didn't she brag about that too?"

I realized with a start that it had never occurred to me that Spike and Hobbie may have been together at one time. She had said he was her best friend, but sometimes best friends were lovers too. A flash of jealousy swept over me before I shoved it away. Whatever they had, it was over now, without any lingering feelings of that nature. At least, it was for Spike, as evidenced by her behavior with Wes. I wondered if Hobbie still felt anything.

"Were you two an item?" I asked, trying not to show my trepidation.

Hobbie laughed. "Not like that," he replied to my relief. "She taught me to dance for our Advanced Ed graduation dance. She said no friend of hers was going to embarrass her by making it all the way through Ed and not knowing how to dance. She made me practice for two months with her before she was satisfied."

"I'll have to thank her." I took a chance and leaned in a little closer so he could feel my breath against his cheek. "She's taught me a few moves, too."

The heat flared in his eyes and his hand came up to cup my chin. He caressed my jaw with his finger and studied my features intently. I drank in his intoxicating stare, letting it feed the ache building deep in my core. He pushed the hair out of my eyes with his fingertips and traced my cheekbone before finding his way to my lips.

"Spike and I have a lot in common." Softly, he touched my lips and I let them part, inviting him to explore further. "But it's important that you understand we are very different in some crucial ways."

His breath was hot on my cheek where he re-traced the trail across my cheekbone with his lips. "She is wonderfully uninhibited and boldly takes what she wants."

"Whereas I…" He tucked my hair behind my ear and moved to explore what he had uncovered.

"…like to take my time…" His tongue flicked an outline around the curves of my ear and I was sure he could hear my blood roaring.

"…and savor…" He pulled back and clasped my face in both hands.

"…every moment." His lips pressed against mine then in a full if tender kiss. I felt his tongue on my lips and I opened to taste him in return, catching only a tantalizing flicker before he had moved back and sat smiling at what I'm sure was a dazed look on my face.

Great stars! A man who understood sexual tension? I don't think Spike knew what she had missed. I as so going to bust her for this later!

The tightness in my chest was burning brighter as I stared at him and slowly shook my head. Deliberately, I licked my lips and ended with a gentle nibble on my lower lip. No way was he getting away unaffected.

"Whatever you say," I purred as I kissed his palm that still rested against my cheek, slowly extending my exploration out to the tips of his fingers. Raising my eyebrows and staring directly at him, I slipped the tip of his middle finger in my mouth and sucked gently. I was rewarded with a deep inhale of his breath and the widening of his smoldering brown eyes.

I released his hand and nonchalantly took another sip from my almost empty drink. I knew that was going to be my last one. I was not going to miss the smallest detail of whatever this man had in mind for tonight.

Wes and Spike came back to the table then, giggling and kissing sloppily. Spike smiled at me, obviously happy that Hobbie and I were getting cozy. "Don't you just love this music? I think it's Correllian? Or maybe Alderaanian?"

I tensed at the mention of Alderaan and was shocked that Hobbie did too. Even Wes's eyes darkened and a look passed between the two men. Spike seemed to sense the sudden tension despite her inebriated state but couldn't grasp the source. "What? What did I say?"

The news of the destruction of Alderaan several months ago had shocked the entire galaxy. The incomprehensible power it took to do such a thing had cowed many while the rumors as to the cause had spread like a Guivian itch vine. Conspiracy theories abounded but the galaxy still waited for a straight explanation from the Empire. Spike and I had heard our own rumors about terrible Imperial weapons and their vendetta against the Princess of Alderaan who led the Rebellion, but it was hard to know what was true.

"It's terrible what happened to Alderaan," I ventured cautiously after several long ticks of silence. I turned and faced Hobbie head on. "Do you think its true the Rebels blew themselves up and took the planet with them?"

He looked at Wes and Spike and then retuned to me. "No," he said firmly. "I don't."

Spike gasped. "Hobbie? Politics? You have changed."

Hobbie nodded. "That I have. More than you know." He peered at her intently. "You ok with that?"

Spike stared at her old friend, the merriment gone from her eyes and a hard, calculating glint replacing it. This was a moment of truth that had come quicker than either of us thought it would. She knew the danger even more so than I did. Even in an inebriated state, even in a lustful state, she would never risk our safety with loose talk.

"Do you know that for a fact? That the Rebels didn't blow it up?"

Hobbie nodded solemnly.

Spike sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay with that." She plopped down across Wes's lap and reached up to pat his cheek. "What about you, gunner? Where are you at?"

Wes kissed the palm of Spike's hand and licked a trail up the inside of her wrist. "Sugar, I'm Hobbie's wingman," he said as if that explained it all. "I've always got his back."

"Good boy," Spike murmured with approval as she moved her head, exposing her neck in an invitation for Wes to nuzzle. He didn't hesitate.

"Spike," Hobbie leaned over toward her. "I want to talk about this."

"Later," she murmured, her face buried in Wes's hair. "Tomorrow morning we can talk."

"Yeah, " Wes interjected, shooting Hobbie an irritated look. "Tomorrow _morning_ we can talk."

A thrill ran through me as what had just happened sunk in. These guys didn't like the Empire after all. They were very subtle about it but I sensed real strength in their stance. I wondered if they were just Rebel sympathizers. Or…? What if they were actually Rebels? Now wouldn't that be something?

I gasped reflexively and jerked back to look at Hobbie with wide eyes. Suddenly I felt like a dunce as I understood what Spike had obviously figured out quite some time ago. I knew they had been hiding something, but I had been so concerned with our own security it hadn't occurred to me that these guys had the exact same concerns!

Hobbie was staring at me calmly, his expression giving nothing away. Then he shook his head in the slightest movement and offered his hand. "Dance?"

A slow tune started just as we hit the floor and Hobbie pulled me in close to nuzzle my hair. I let him, but made sure he could hear me.

"You're not just a freighter pilot, are you?"

He shook his head mutely against my hair.

"And you're not a smuggler, either, are you?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said mysteriously. His arms encircled my waist and his hands began to caress my back.

"You're not a member of Imperial Security Bureau testing our loyalty?"

"Most definitely not," he answered firmly. He guided my arms up around his neck and demonstrated the direction of his thoughts by stroking my arms and shoulders. "The rest has to wait for Spike."

Wait for Spike? Something was definitely up. If these guys were Rebels they seemed to believe that Spike really was an Imperial trooper. That was fine. Whatever it was, she could handle it and it wouldn't interfere with my work. Knowing Hobbie was in some way associated with the Rebellion just made me all the more comfortable getting cozy with him. Spike was always telling me to enjoy the moment. At this moment, I just wanted to enjoy the evening with this man.

I was completely and utterly trapped by his efforts to entice my thoughts down the same path as his. I don't think I had ever met a man that could make me get this lost in the sensations he was sending pulsing through my body. The caress of his hands, the press of his hips, the heat of his breath all drowned me in exquisite torture until I could take no more.

I joined his sensual exploration by leaning tantalizingly close to his neck. Grazing the skin, I inhaled the musk of his scent and savored the rhythm of his pulse. Tentatively, I flicked my tongue to taste a spot below his chin and nuzzled against his faintly whiskered cheek.

He met my mouth then in a shamelessly wanton kiss, our tongues tasting and probing, igniting a torrid desire that obliterated any lingering hesitation. I surrendered to his guiding touch, synchronizing our moves on the dance floor with the heated fervor of our caresses. We swayed through the rest of the song, clinging to each other, exploring the feel of our bodies against each other.

The song ended too soon. I wasn't ready to separate from him yet. When the next song started with an upbeat techno riff, I ignored it and silently begged that he do the same.

He didn't.

Instead, he whispered. "Let's see if Spike and Wes are ready to get out of here yet."

Okay, that I could go along with.

We left the nightclub and hailed an autocab as quickly as we could. The trip back to the apartment was at once interminable and fleeting. I was impatient to feel the heat of this man's skin against mine and strained against the lack of privacy, but was shocked when we arrived at the apartment. I had no memory of anything but the curves of his taut muscles, the weight of his body against mine, and the scorching intimacy of his kisses.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke to an empty bed. My heart sank as I realized Hobbie wasn't just in the 'fresher. His clothes were gone and the bed beside me was cold.

Somehow I had thought this morning would go differently. The memory of his body on mine brought a rush of warmth and renewed desire. Cherished. That was the word I would use. I had felt cherished last night.

I could have sworn he had felt it too.

As I stared at the empty space beside me and berated myself for being such an idiot, Hobbie stuck his head in the room. "You're up? Good. We got breakfast for you."

He looked longingly at my naked form still stretched on the bed and stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed beside me and ran his hand up my thigh and over the curve of my hip.

I smiled at this sudden reversal of fortune and reached up to caress his cheek. He leaned down and gave me a sweet good morning kiss, then smacked me on the rear, making me jump. "Come on out and join us. We have to talk."

He left as abruptly as he had come in and I was once again floundering, my head spinning with confusion. My head ached, mostly from morning-after misery because I hadn't had all that much alcohol last night. _What had I been thinking?_

I dragged myself to the shower and quickly washed, dried and dressed. I couldn't shake the longing for Hobbie to return but I tried valiantly to talk myself into believing it didn't matter because it was, after all, just _fun_. I'm sure he never intended it any other way. He was probably just passing through on some Rebel mission, hiding from the Empire and eager to find a warm, friendly bed for the night.

I braced myself to face Hobbie in the full daylight.

Hobbie, Wes and Spike were sitting around the table munching on pastries and exchanging friendly jabs. I watched the camaraderie that flew so easily between the three with a quiet despair. I was happy for Spike – she deserved this time with her childhood friend and a man she enjoyed - but I was tired of the diversion and ready to get back to work. I couldn't check the results of the trace analytics program while they were here and I was anxious to know if it found anything. I was good at my work. I knew what I was doing at my work. I couldn't say the same when it came to men.

I smiled gamely and sat down at the table, taking a pastry for myself. Spike sent me a questioning look and quirked her eyebrows at me. I wasn't sure if she wanted to know whether I had a good time last night or if she was trying to let me know she did.

"Good morning, everybody." I tried to sound cheerful.

I had almost finished my pastry before I realized they were all just sitting there looking at me.

"What?" I queried, looking down to make sure I had dressed appropriately. "What are you guys looking at?"

The three of them looked at each other. "Why don't you start?" Hobbie asked Spike.

I looked at Spike with a sinking feeling. Whatever it was, it didn't feel like it would be anything good.

She pursed her lips and looked at me. "First, Nya, you have to know I believe them and I trust them."

"Ok." I said cautiously. "And?"

She took a deep breath. "Nya, they're with the Rebel Alliance.

I looked back and forth between Wes and Hobbie. "Umm, yeah, I figured that." Was that all it was?

"You did?" Hobbie's arm dropped on the table.

Spike rolled her eyes at Hobbie's obtuseness and continued as if Hobbie hadn't spoken. "They want me to help them."

"Help them?" I froze. "Help them how?"

"Remember those droid parts I said we were here to pick up?" Hobbie's smooth voice tweaked the knot in my gut, pulling it even tighter.

I nodded mutely.

"Well, it's not exactly droid parts and we're not exactly paying for them."

I kept nodding, bobbing my head like one of those silly toy dolls, just because I didn't know what else to do. My head was spinning, trying to work out the possibility of exposure from these guys. If Maar or anyone else knew they were here and even suspected they were Rebels, I didn't want to be caught in whatever scheme they had going.

Plus, I had to admit I was still smarting from Hobbie's unceremonious departure from my bed this morning. I know it was just _fun_, but he didn't have to be so cavalier about it. Would a little sensitivity have killed him?

They sat there quietly, waiting expectantly.

Gently, Hobbie said, "Ok?"

I nodded, trying hard not to lose it. "Ok. No problem."

"No problem?" Hobbie seemed puzzled.

His reaction inexplicably angered me and I snapped back at him. "Yes, no problem! I get it. We won't get in your way. We won't betray you. Ok?"

Spike kicked Hobbie under the table and he grunted. "You are such a nerf herder, Hobbie!"

She turned back to me. "Nya, I haven't committed to anything. I've only been listening."

Her emphasis on the word _listening_ told me she hadn't said anything to them about our mission.

A connection suddenly clicked in my soppy brain that I'm sure Spike had already made. The excess supplies being siphoned off by Maar would be much better put to use by the Rebels. Plus, they would be easier to steal. I sent Spike a wordless question.

Spike nodded her assent. "I think you should speak for yourself."

I sat there for a few moments, absorbing the situation and thinking this through. I had left the decision as to whether to say anything last night in Spike's hands because at that point, it was just a security issue. Now it had become an operational issue presenting yet another mission creep problem and as such, this was my call. This time, though, I could tell Spike approved of the diversion.

"So…you want Spike's help because you're here to raid the Fabritech facility where she works?"

Hobbie and Wes nodded silently.

"What do you need?"

Hobbie looked surprised at my question. "We have a shopping list but mostly we want the sensor equipment."

"The 5d Full-Spectrum Transceivers or the 9q Sensor Systems?

"The transceivers," Wes answered slowly, obviously not expecting me to be up on my starfighter equipment. I wouldn't have been, either, if it hadn't been for the production requests and the so-called 'surplus' lists that Maar had been generating.

I remembered that Hobbie had trained as a TIE fighter pilot. "You're still flying, then?" I was being short with him, I knew, but my gut was still twisted painfully and my patience was razor thin.

Spike, on the other hand, couldn't restrain her pride. "My boy here is a hotshot fighter pilot for the Alliance!" She grinned her pleasure and patted Wes' knee beside her. "Turns out so is Gunner here."

"So you came to the tapcafé last night to recruit Spike to help you raid a highly secure Imperial sub-contractor's facility?"

"Yes."

If they only realized just how appropriate that role would have been for Spike! No wonder she wanted to help them.

"How did you know she was there?"

Wes answered that one. "We've been surveilling ­­­the facility for a few days now. Hobbie recognized her." He smirked at Spike. "We actually met two days ago. I ran a trial insertion and you let me walk right in."

"Hmmph." Spike was unimpressed. "Getting in the front door is not difficult. Getting your hands on some product is going to require a lot more than that."

Nevertheless, it chilled me to know we had been watched for several days and neither of us had known it. It made me worry about who else could be easily watching us.

"If it's Spike's help you want, why do you need me? Why didn't you just catch her alone?"

Hobbie looked down awkwardly. "Well, we're kind of on a time crunch and you two are always together, so we went with it."

Which meant I was just the third wheel. Just as I had suspected. Actually, I was the fourth wheel that was paired off out of nothing more than convenience and happenstance.

"I see." I blinked harshly at the pressure building in my eyes, trying to separate my personal feelings from my job. "I'm sorry for getting in your way then."

His eyes darkened at that and color brightened his cheeks. "You didn't get in my way, Nya."

"Not yet, but I will."

Hobbie's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Spike, but I can't let you help them raid the Fabritech facility. The risk of exposure is too great."

I was mad. I just wasn't sure if I was mad at Hobbie or mad at myself.

It was childish, I know. But it hurt like hell and I couldn't keep my irritation from showing. I sat rigid in my chair, trying to look like the confident mission leader I was supposed to be rather than the petulant amateur I felt like.

Spike looked disappointed. I could tell she was looking forward to some more of her kind of _fun_ but it was just too risky. I was confident of that decision at least, even if my delivery left something to be desired.

"You can't _let_ her?" Hobbie directed his question at both me and Spike. His eyes were narrowed and his gaze flit back and forth between us. "Ok, what am I missing?"

I took a deep breath. I knew he wasn't going to like this and despite my pique at his rude morning-after manners, I had no desire to be spiteful.

"All you need to know is that we are on the same side but I have other objectives. I can't risk exposure."

Hobbie stiffened suddenly, inhaling sharply, his eyes wide. Wes shot up from his chair, muttering and running his hand through his hair. "Son of a Sith!" Wes swore softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Spike grinned maliciously. "Relax, flyboy. You had a hell of a time, didn't you?" She winked at him and sassily blew him a kiss. "Be a good boy for me and maybe there will be more."

Her grin faded as she turned back to see Hobbie's face still shocked at the revelation. Her sharp, calculating look returned as she set her elbows on the table and leaned in ominously toward Hobbie.

"There are only four reasons I can think of why you would disappear like that." Spike counted them off on her fingers. "You're obviously not dead and I knew you weren't the type to be an Imperial deep cover spy, so that left only criminal activity or the Rebellion."

She threw a glare at Wes. "I was kind of hoping I had myself a couple of devilishly handsome low-life smugglers to hang around with, but you two made it pretty obvious you were smarter than that."

Hobbie looked apologetic. "I've underestimated you, Spike."

Spike pursed her lips and looked like she was going to snap at him, but instead she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've got just one question." She paused, looking like she was searching for the right words or trying to avoid the wrong ones.

When she continued, her voice was pitched low, pain scratching her throat as she revealed the depth of the wound inflicted by the Imperial invasion.

"Where were you, Hobbie?" Her face was deadly calm but her eyes accused Hobbie with a fierce rebuke. "Where were you when the Imperial fleet bombarded Ralltiir, Hobbie? Where were you when the Stormtroopers marched in the streets of Cambrielle and my father was forced into an internment camp?" Her hands tightened into fists and she looked away as if she couldn't bear to see him. "Where were you when Ralltiir needed you, Hobbie? Where were you when_ I_ needed you?"

She drew a ragged breath but she wasn't done yet, her anger now animating every angle of her face "Were you flying those TIEs that strafed innocent civilians, driving them like nerf herds?" Her hands flung wide, gesturing wildly at the scene that was etched permanently in her memory.

"Were you flying the TIEs that destroyed a medical center, killing hundreds of completely helpless patients and doctors?" I gasped at the reference to the attack that had killed my mother.

"How far did you go before you started _defending_ Ralltiir, Hobbie, instead of helping the Empire destroy it?"

Hobbie's chair was propelled backward, scraping loudly on the floor. In one motion he whipped his shirt from his body and pointed to the scar on his arm. "This! This is where I was when Cambrielle was bombarded. I lost a kriffing arm leading a mutiny on my _Imperial_ ship and defecting to the Rebellion!"

In another motion, he stepped out of his pants and displayed a still healing scar on his leg. "This! This is where I was when the Stormtroopers were marching in the streets. I lost a leg liberating X-Wings so people like Wes and I could fight for places like Ralltiir!"

He stood in his skivvies in the middle of our kitchen, breathing heavily from indignation. His face was flushed red and his voice was raw. His muscles clenched from the effort to hold himself tightly under control. "I saw the same evil you saw, Spike. I saw the corruption and the lust for power and the complete disregard for life of all kinds, and for the first time in my life I saw that the galaxy was bigger than I was."

He leaned over the table, matching Spike's unyielding posture. "The Alliance is bigger than me, Spike. It's bigger than you; it's bigger than Ralltiir, even. A lot of good people have died. A lot of _good friends_ have died trying to save places like Ralltiir. If we can't rid the galaxy of the Empire itself – the whole kriffing Empire, Emperor and all - then Ralltiir has no chance of ever being truly free. No chance at all!"

An agonized silence swooped into the room in the wake of Hobbie's fervent speech. It perched on our shoulders and pecked with an exquisite clarity and empathy at the passions that had been stirred. No one dared speak or even breathe.

Finally, Spike let out a deep, shaky sigh. "I care about Ralltiir first." Her voice was still ragged, but her fury had calmed and the tension in her body was fading. "Now put your clothes back on, Hobbie. You're turning me on." Her dry tone was as much humor as she could muster at the moment.

Hobbie just stared back at her, not laughing in the slightest. "I will put my clothes on if you tell me your real story, Spike. What happened? How is it you are here on a Rebel mission? How does Nya fit in here?"

My eyes were blurry from the rush of emotion of the moment. Whatever Hobbie's bedside manner, he was obviously an extremely dedicated and loyal freedom fighter for the whole galaxy. He hadn't abandoned Ralltiir after all. His defense of his actions had revealed a profound conviction in him that matched Spike's in depth and strength, if not exuberance.

I decided to go ahead and pull up the data I had gathered on my comp station. Giving them information about Maar's stash wouldn't impede my mission at all.

"They killed my Pop, Hobbie." Spike's voice was full of pain and distress. "What was I supposed to do?" She looked as close to tears as I had ever seen her. "You loved him, too, didn't you?"

Hobbie nodded, his eyes closing momentarily in remorse as he moved to comfort her but she shrugged him off. "I found the Rebels and started hitting everything I could. We took out several garrisons, shot down a couple dozen TIEs – and I prayed to the Maker every time that you weren't in one of them, by the way. We even took out several AT-AT's and that's not easy to do, let me tell you! We took on their stormtroopers at every opportunity, but they just kept coming. Governor Graeber rules Ralltiir now, with a cruel hand and a merciless heart. I can and will do everything in my power to oppose him!"

"I understand." Hobbie said simply. He kneaded the tense muscles in her shoulders and she finally allowed him to hug her. They stood there for a long minute, two old friends comforting each other.

"Sorry I had to do that," Spike sniffed, turning back to Wes and apologizing sweetly. She smiled shyly at Wes, turning her impish charm back on with the flip of a switch. "I really did enjoy last night. Forgive me?"

Wes ran his fingers through his hair, then grinned ruefully. "Aw, hell, babe, nothing to apologize for. Just two Rebels out for a little fun, eh?" He pulled her in for a comforting squeeze that quickly turned into a deep, lusty kiss.

I shook my head, amazed at the ease with which they sloughed off their pain and reveled in the moment. Sometimes I envied Spike her boisterous spirit, despite the fact that I knew it to be just a salve for deep wounds. I wished I could be that carefree. I wished it didn't matter that last night had been just a casual fling for Hobbie. I wished I could just be satisfied with a night of fun with a great guy. I wished I didn't feel everything so deeply. But I wasn't satisfied and I did feel it deeply. So much for _harmless fun_.

"I've got something for you." I motioned to Hobbie, Wes and Spike to come over as I sat at my comp station and slowly scrolled through the trace patterns the analytics program had detected.

"I'm not sure I understand what I'm looking at." That was Hobbie from over my right shoulder.

"I'm sure you don't!" Wes snorted from my left.

"That's ok," Spike assured him, fluffing his hair with her hand. "You cross jockeys are just here for muscle. My girl can handle the tough mental work. Isn't that right, Nya?"

I barely smiled at her teasing, concentrating on the screen in front of me.

"It's a trace record of the communications my section leader, Sgt. Maar, has been receiving."

I explained to Hobbie and Wes how I had found discrepancies in the accounting entries between the facility production figures and the incoming Imperial orders. More material was being manufactured and transferred to the Empire than the Empire was actually receiving.

"The requisitions you said you saw." Hobbie was nodding thoughtfully. I was impressed that he had been listening, let alone remembered that small comment.

"I asked Sgt. Maar about it and he said he would take care of it. Then he re-assigned me to audit the maintenance records of the garrison's housekeeping droids."

"Barve." Spike interjected spitefully.

"Needless to say I was miffed." I admitted. "I insisted that an audit needed to be done and an investigation started. He outright threatened me then, telling me to stay out of it and keep my mouth shut or I would disappear."

"He'll pay for that." Spike spat out through gritted teeth.

"So I played dead, convincing him he had me thoroughly intimidated and that I wouldn't bring it up again. Then I sliced into his personal accounts and got this." I waved a hand at the comp station.

"You sliced into his _personal_ accounts?" Hobbie asked warily.

"Nya's the best slicer on the Southern Continent, maybe even all Ralltiir." Spike said proudly. I just rolled my eyes at her. She liked to brag like that. The truth was slicing into a personal account – even one with extra encryption like Maar's - had been easy compared to the bank slicing I'd been doing.

"Don't worry." I reassured Hobbie. "I've been doing this since I was nine. My father was the best bank fraud investigator on all of Ralltiir. He taught me everything I know."

I handed him a datapad and keyed up a list of files. "I found extensive and thorough documentation of shipments and warehouse inventories that exactly matched the discrepancies between production and export. I also found careful calendar entries detailing deliveries and pick-ups."

"He's running a black market operation." Wes declared. "Skimming off the top."

"Kriffing Hutt slime." Spike was on a roll.

"That's how I know where you can find your sensor transceivers. He should probably have some stored in his warehouse or will be shipping some out soon. It'll be easier to raid his warehouse or one of his shipments than it will be to try to get in to the Fabritech facility."

"That's what I'm talking about." Wes interjected with feeling. "Gotta love Intelligence!" He made the comment a double entendre and smiled at me warmly. I blushed at his compliment and realized guiltily that I wasn't immune to his charms.

"The thing is," I continued, ducking my head quickly away from Wes and turning back to the comp station. "There's no way he could have planned all this. I'm sure someone else, someone with a lot more access than Maar, is sending him this information and telling Maar what to do." I switched back to the analytics program I had run last night with the tracking codes I had pulled out of the mainframe

"He's mean but he's dumb." Spike declared. "He couldn't do this on his own."

"Sithspit!" I cursed and gaped at the results of the analytical program that flashed on my screen. Slapping my forehead with one hand, I pointed with the other at the display that summarized Maar's communication traces. They had been backtracked through multiple routings to the originating comp station and collated according to source and proximity, then cross-referenced with the Imperial master computer identification codes. There was no doubt about it.

"General Lapier." I groaned. "It's the kriffing Imperial Commander himself!"

"That son of a bantha!" Spike looked like she was ready to blast him right then and there. "I guess raiding Ralltiiri banks isn't enough for him."

"Spike!" I warned reflexively, frowning at her uncharacteristic lapse in security. I felt Hobbie's gaze on me.

"Nya," he said. "We can help you if you let us. This is the Rebel _Alliance_ after all. We should all be helping each other as much as possible."

I studied his demeanor cautiously. He appeared completely sincere, serious about his cause and his mission. There was no sign of his earlier flippancy toward our personal interactions.

Spike didn't look like she regretted her comment. She leaned against the counter with her arms crossed and her forehead furrowed deeply in disgust.

"He's my mission." I admitted. "Lapier is my mission."


	3. Chapter 3

As Wes parked the landspeeder and we climbed out to begin walking, I recognized immediately that we were in the Market District. It was a crowded non-labor day and we squeezed our way single file through the crush of shoppers. Hobbie led the way through aisle after aisle of food vendors, native craft wares and surplus cargo deliveries from the nearby spaceport.

I was beginning to worry about getting lost in the maze of tables and booths and never finding our way back to the landspeeder when we exited the far side of the field and walked into a clothier merchant shop.

I found myself wrinkling my nose at the stuffy smell in the shop. It was dimly lit and my eyes strained to adjust. The service droid immediately lit up when we entered and began to recite the day's offerings.

"I'd like to see the Narra Red line of clothing." Hobbie spoke to the droid quietly but it reacted immediately by ceasing its sales pitch and scooting to the back of the store. Hobbie grabbed my hand and led me through the displays of last year's fashions as we followed the droid. It opened a well-hidden door and stepped back to allow us to enter.

We climbed a narrow staircase and waited on the top landing as Hobbie punched a code in the companel.

The large, brightly lit room must have spanned several downstairs merchant shops. We stood in a Rebel operations center. The far side of the room held a multitude of computer stations, complete with droids lending their processing functions to the tasks. The majority of the room to the right of the door was empty with thick pads lining the floor. To the left of the door was a large conference table around which several people sat.

I was impressed with the size of the operation. Considering the amount of equipment and activity, I figured it must be a regional center. I wondered if it coordinated with any of Ralltiir's cells.

Four beings looked up as we approached a large table.

"Commander Skywalker, Commander Antilles, Mr. Eddriss Sark, Sergeant Oepoono, this is Rinni Spikkoli and Nya Ollinal of the Ralltiiri resistance."

"Spike, Nya, this is Commander Luke Skywalker and Commander Wedge Antilles of Rogue Squadron, our commanding officers. Eddriss Sark of Alliance Intelligence is in charge of the Albecus Operations Center. And Sergeant Oepoono is our Special Forces Urban Combat specialist."

The three humans and one Rodian nodded their greetings. Spike stiffened at my side and I wondered if she was as impressed as I was. The rumors that had spread among the Rebel world – including Ralltiir – regarding the terrible weapon that had destroyed Alderaan all included tales of heroic starfighter pilots defeating the behemoth Imperial weapon and even Darth Vader himself. I had personally found those tales hard to believe but they had all mentioned the names of Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles. Now, here they sat and I had to wonder if the stories were true or if it was all just good PR.

"I am honored to meet you all." I inclined my head respectfully.

"Thank you for coming to see us," the hero Luke Skywalker was saying. "We acknowledge the trust it must take for you to contact us."

"I'm Wedge." The dark-haired man with intelligent eyes left his spot at the table and walked around to shake both mine and Spike's hands. "Any friend of Wes and Hobbie's is a friend of ours."

Eddriss Sark was a tall, lanky man with a beak of a nose and close-set eyes. Thinning, salt and pepper hair and a face lined with deep creases that should have indicated advanced age instead were offset by his obvious physical vigor, leaving an impression of a man marked not so much by years, but by stress and tragedy. "Call me Sark," he graveled. "I'm glad you are here. I look forward to working with you."

"Oepoono!" the unusually tall for a Rodian male trumpeted. He wore abbreviated armor at his shoulders and knees and green leather chaps lined his legs and chest. Red plastined shinguards were strapped to his lower legs. He appeared to have just come back from a mission or was about to set out on a mission. But then again, I wasn't entirely certain that this wasn't his daily wear. "Well met," he lisped in Basic.

"I would like to offer whatever help we can provide in your mission." Luke began. "I want you to know that the Rebel Alliance supports all local resistance operations fighting the Empire."

"I appreciate that and I thank you for your kind offer." I wasn't very well versed in diplomacy, but I knew I was representing Ralltiir now and was determined to do it as best I could.

I turned to Mr. Sark. "I hope you understand why I couldn't make contact before. I thought our missions were completely unrelated."

Sark nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I think we can help each other now, no?"

"Perhaps." I smiled politely. "I do believe I can help you, in any case, but you have to make me a promise."

"What would that be?" Luke asked.

"I would like the local resistance to follow up on some things I will be forced to leave hanging."

Sark leaned forward. "Such as?"

"First, you came to us. Well, you came to Spike, anyways." I hurried to cover the flicker of hurt that lanced through me. "I believe you are in need of some sensor transceivers?"

"Yes," said Luke. "You happen to have some lying around?"

I looked at Sark. "Are you aware of a blackmarket operation being run out of the Fabritech facility?"

He looked startled. "No, I'm not."

"The orders that the facility receives are higher than what is shipped. I determined that someone is falsifying the actual order by increasing the production requests – without higher recompense, of course, – then fulfilling the actual order and pocketing the difference."

"Since most of those orders are Imperial orders, Fabritech has little choice in the matter." Luke said. "Nice scam."

"A man named Sgt. Maar is managing the logistics out of Albecus Primary Spaceport." I continued. "I can provide you with shipment schedules and warehouse locations that will expedite your supply run. You should be able to get those transceivers with no problem."

"Thank you." Luke said. "And what is it we can do to help you in return?"

"I need Sark to make sure Maar is taken care of. I discovered that the man feeding these falsified orders to the factory is none other than the man I am here for – General Lapier, the Garrison Commander. I need to go after him and I won't have time to finish Maar."

"Wait a minute," Wedge interjected. "Back up. What do you mean 'go after' Lapier?"

Spike looked offended. "Not an assassination, if that's what you're thinking, though he certainly deserves it. He's an Imperial collaborator and a kriffing thief!"

I snarked at Spike's redundancy. "A little over a year ago when the Empire took control of Ralltiir, one of the first things they did was zero out all the alien held bank accounts and even some Rebel Alliance-friendly human held accounts. That money didn't just disappear. We were able to trace it to various people who were rewarded for their loyalty to the Empire leading up to the Ralltiiri battles."

"My mission is to track these people down and steal it back." I said calmly. "Lapier is a member of an influential banking family on Ralltiir. They wielded all their power on behalf of the Empire and were handsomely rewarded for it with stolen money, government positions and military commands."

"I have delayed my mission in order to track Maar but now that I know Lapier is behind this, I can no longer avoid executing my mission. As Spike said, that does not include assassination, but it most certainly does include wiping him out financially."

"And you do that how?" asked Wedge.

"Nya is a top rate slicer," Hobbie supplied.

Luke cocked his head curiously. "So presumably you will be breaking into his personal accounts and destroying them somehow?"

"Yes," I agreed. "I get access to his accounts and then arrange to have them all transferred to a ghost account. We go in later and transfer the ghost account to our own and use the money to sponsor the Resistance. We may not be able to return this money to the rightful owners but we sure as hell can use it to punish the thieves responsible."

Wes spoke up. "What she means is they're going to break into the Imperial Garrison Commander's office."

Luke and Wedge looked at each other.

"We've done it several times already and we'll do it several times again," growled Spike defensively. "Don't you dare be thinking we can't do it."

"Actually," Luke said amiably. "We were thinking that we can help you. You're helping us, so the only polite thing to do is to help you."

Spike's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Help us how?"

Wedge rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm thinking a diversion would be good."

Luke nodded. "Maybe we go ahead and stage that raid on the Fabritech facility. We don't actually have to be successful; we just make a lot of noise and draw all the attention away from the offices."

Sark leaned over the table and tapped the datapad I had given him. "Can we work this black market operation into our plans? If we stage a raid, the spaceport is likely to be locked down for awhile. We need to make sure all the materiel can make it out."

"You could pose as smugglers and simply take delivery." I suggested. "Since its Lapier profiting, he won't inhibit the ships with his cargo on it – especially if he just lost his whole portfolio."

"Yes, yes, that could work." Luke nodded. "We'll need some time to get our smuggler in place. Too bad Han is otherwise occupied."

Wedge smiled and nodded. "I think we can find a beat up old freighter somewhere that will pass as a smuggler's ship. We can fly it and Sark can create a convincing background for it."

"Wes and I can do the flying," Hobbie volunteered. "Our X-Wings are still back at the base."

"I was thinking that there might also be a need for some extra security for when Spike and Nya break into Lapier's office." Wes proposed.

"That's not necessary," Spike admonished, daring anyone to say otherwise. "I can handle it."

"I'm not saying you can't," Wes assured her. "I just don't want to miss out on the _fun_." He winked at her and cocked his head sideways in silent agreement with their common definition of _fun_.

The corner of Spike's mouth quirked up even while her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Fine," she allowed. "You can back me up – but I run this op. It's why I'm here."

"I'd like to go, too." Hobbie offered.

"I think we can manage that." Luke agreed.

We spent the next two hours laying out detailed plans for the simultaneous missions. Spike leaned over the table with Luke, Wedge, Wes and Hobbie, coordinating their efforts and planning their signals.

Sark and I poured over Maar's schedules and cargo lists. We selected several items and I sliced a confirmation for Maar to meet our newly invented smuggler ship five days from today with a load of ANs-5d Full-Spectrum Transceivers, k-blakan mini sensors, and SE-Vigilant Automated Sensor Beacons.

I wasn't comfortable with the delay but it was necessary to set up the arrangements, plus the raid should really take place on a non-labor evening. Tomorrow Spike and I would have to return to our Imperial posts along with the rest of the garrison. It would be five days before the traffic in the office building would be at low ebb again.

"So is Lapier your mission because you happened to be assigned to his command, or did you just happen to be assigned to Lapier's command because he's your mission?"

Sark's mild question was delivered casually, but I detected the professional curiosity behind his words.

"You dying to know how I did it?" I chuckled.

Sark's heavily line face lifted only slightly despite his sheepish grin. "Moving in and out of Imperial garrisons at will is quite a trick. The Alliance could definitely benefit from that ability."

"I think I'd like to know that, too." Hobbie came up behind me unexpectedly. My stomach lurched involuntarily and I stiffened as his hand rested on my back.

He dropped it immediately when he felt my reaction and gave me a quizzical look. "You never did tell me how you and Spike wound up here on Albecus."

I turned back to Sark, mostly to avoid the anxiety I felt when I looked at Hobbie.

"It helps that Spike and I are real people with real history. There is no cover to break and no hidden past to reveal." I shifted uneasily in my chair, discomfited by Hobbie's presence. "We joined the huge surge of recruits the Empire got from Ralltiir when they invaded. We enlisted for real, we went to boot camp for real, we got our first assignment for real."

"Spike wasn't lying when she said the Imperial recruiters promised her stormtrooper training then welched on the deal." I said to Hobbie. "That really happened."

I turned back to Sark. "It's a lot easier to move real people around within the Imperial Navy by modifying existing records than it is to penetrate their force structure with outside insertions. That's a fundamental principal from bank fraud schemes that I just carried over into our mission."

Sark was nodding his head. "Makes sense." He turned his attention back to the datapad and started asking me about how I had sliced Maar's files. It looked like he was determined to milk me for as much information and tips as I was willing to share.

I didn't mind, especially since it gave me an excuse not to talk to Hobbie, who soon got bored with our technical conversation and left to talk to Wes. A pang of guilt stabbed at me but it was quickly drowned out by the relief.

I ended up slicing some back doors for the local Rebels to keep unobtrusive observation of Maar's files and left the rest of his fate in Sark's capable hands. I wasn't sure if he planned on eliminating the operation, or just using it as easy pickings. Either way, I couldn't worry about it. I needed to focus on Lapier.

Sark's operation had top rate equipment so I picked up several new tools for my slicing. They gave me a new universal datajack, a socketguard diffuser and some more datacards, an untraceable 2048-bit datapad and several new decryption keys I hadn't seen before.

As Spike and I were preparing to leave, I remembered my duty to Ralltiir and approached Commander Skywalker.

"A request if I may?" At his silent assent I continued formally. "Remember Ralltiir please. When the Alliance is able, we could really use your assistance. We're an important finance center, not to mention a core world. There are many, many Alliance supporters in our population. You would be welcomed, I assure you. It could really be useful to the Alliance to have Ralltiir on your side."

"I'll do what I can." Luke promised solemnly.

We left in Wes' landspeeder with Hobbie at the wheel. Spike and Wes were already smooching on each other and I was pretty sure Hobbie was thinking along the same lines. I caught him looking at me a couple of times, though he didn't try to make any moves on me.

For my part, I couldn't talk. I had nothing to say to him. I didn't fault him for enjoying himself last night. Heck, I enjoyed it myself. I more than enjoyed it! I longed for more of it, to tell the truth. But even more, I longed to avoid the pain and embarrassment of being just another notch on his blaster belt.

Spike had her own blaster belt so she had no problem with that concept. Her "live in the moment" philosophy of life didn't allow for embarrassment or regret. In theory, it had a definite appeal to it. But the reality had never quite worked the way it was supposed to for me.

We grabbed some fresh vegetables and dumplings in the market on our way out. It was getting dark and all the booths were closing so we got a deal on the leftover foodstuffs.

I watched the busy traffic of Albecus dart around us. Speeders and swoops of all types flew beside and above us. The light from Albecus' pale yellow sun was fading to glorious shades of pinks and orange and the city lights began to glow in the twilight air.

I tried to keep up with the conversation in the speeder lest the others get too concerned with my mood. I didn't feel like explaining myself to Spike yet and I certainly didn't want to cause a scene. I smiled politely and nodded in the appropriate places.

Back at the apartment I made a stew for us. I'm glad Spike didn't propose going out again because I didn't think I could have done it. Instead, I puttered around the kitchen, preparing everything by hand, cleaning up meticulously afterward, using every excuse I could to keep my distance from Hobbie.

Hobbie made no move to leave to go back to the Rebel safehouse. He seemed content to enjoy Spike and Wes' company for the most part, telling stories and sharing jokes.

They did drag me into a game of Sabacc. Normally, I would have enjoyed that immensely as I was pretty good at the game and almost always ended up ahead of where I started. But tonight my mood grew more and more tense as the evening wore on. I felt boxed in and knew I would have to say something. I just didn't know what.

"Yee-haw!" Spike crowed, showing her Pure Sabacc hand and rapidly scooping the pot of plastine chits, miscellaneous trinkets and handwritten I.O.U.'s into her lap. "I'm the best. You're the rest." She taunted us with a little impromptu dance and burst out laughing with glee.

"Stang!" Wes pouted in a poor attempt to feign disappointment. "You going to cash in your I.O.U.'s?"

Suspiciously, Spike picked up the I.O.U. Wes had tossed in the last round and read it before immediately jumping on him in his chair and wiggling. "Most definitely YES!"

The two of them never quit, I had to give them that. I was distracted by their antics and didn't notice Hobbie come up behind me until his hands were on my shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. "Now, Nya, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

I breathed in sharply, positive that my body language was screaming my embarrassment. I shook my head dismissively and shrugged his hands away. "Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine."

Hobbie pulled a chair close and sat down next to me. "I don't think so."

"I'm sorry, Hobbie. I can't do this. Please don't make it worse by continuing."

Wes and Spike excused themselves from the table and wandered off toward her room. She shot me a chastising look on her way out but I just scowled back at her. She couldn't understand. I'm sure she had never foolishly crushed on any of her flings.

Hobbie sat silently beside me for several long heartbeats, then tentatively took my hand and stroked it with his fingers. "I thought we had a moment last night, didn't we?"

I snatched my hand away, trembling. "Stop it! Just stop it, will you? I gave you what you came for. You don't have to keep on pretending." I stood up and started blindly cleaning off the table.

"Just what is it you think I'm pretending?" Hobbie's sounded genuinely perplexed. I looked over at him, barely trusting myself not to burst into a blubbering idiot right then and there.

"I understand about missions. You do what you need to do to get the job done. I also understand that it gets lonely." I shuddered and turned away. "I don't hold anything against you. Just please stop pretending you're here for me. I can't bear it."

Hobbie's eyes flashed and his dour expression deepened. "That's the second time today somebody has accused me of being a horrible person. Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of it."

He got up slowly from the table and cautiously crossed behind me. "Explain to me exactly how you plot that course. I didn't spend the night with you because of my mission. We were looking for Spike, remember?"

"Exactly!" I cried, more vehemently than I had intended. "I was just the roommate you had to get out of the way so Wes could seduce Spike into helping you. I'm not stupid!" I wanted to get away now. Far, far away. I wiped madly at the tears that were sneaking out despite my fierce attempts to quell them and forced my voice to soften.

"I'm sorry, Hobbie, It's my fault. I'm not like Spike and I should never have tried to be. I just don't do casual very well."

"Neither do I." I could feel Hobbie move closer behind me but he refrained from touching me again. "In this business, casual gets you killed. Nothing I do is casual." I could hear his clothing rustle and out of the corner of my eye I saw his shoulders hunching and his hands tucked protectively in his pockets. As he turned away, he let out a sigh of resignation. "It wasn't because of my mission and it wasn't because I had nothing better to do."

"So why did you leave?" I challenged boldly, suddenly panicked at his retreat.

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Leave?"

"This morning. You weren't there when I woke up and then you didn't stay when…" I could feel my face burning from the blush. "I thought…"

"That's what this is about?" He barked huskily before swallowing and taking a deep breath. "I did leave this morning because I thought I had to talk to Spike alone first," he admitted. "I'm sorry about that…miscalculation."

I stared at his easy apology, suddenly recognizing the role my own secrecy had played. "Spike likes to tell me I need to 'live in the moment.' Well, last night I decided to do that. And it was a hell of a moment, I admit! But…"

I stopped, trying to find a way to explain without admitting to my embarrassingly fervent emotions, but not finding it. "It's just that I don't do meaningless fun the way she does. I get too… attached." I sighed, sure that he would finally run away now that he understood I was getting all emotional on him.

His sinewy body dominated my awareness as he hooked the back of my neck with his hand and drew me in closer. He lowered his head to meet mine, seeking the intimacy of eye contact. "I prefer the term 'savor the moment'" he said in a low voice. "And if you thought last night meant nothing to me, you're wrong. Very wrong."

I stared suspiciously into his soft brown eyes, searching for any sign of the typical bantha dung men seemed so fond of dishing out.

"Life is short, Nya. Who knows what disaster tomorrow brings? Spike and I have both learned to enjoy what we have as much as possible. She's just a little more… noisy about it than I am." He clasped my face in both hands. "But at no time did I ever think the moment was meaningless. Quite the opposite, in fact. When all you have is the moment, it becomes that much more meaningful."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You mean it?" I breathed lamely.

Thought vanished in a white hot euphoria as Hobbie closed the distance between us and wrapped me in a rapturous, searing kiss. Intense relief replaced fear and insecurity, chased away by this man's unmistakable demonstration of his intention.

"Believe it." He whispered in my ear fiercely and allowed me to crumple into his arms. He held me tightly as I buried my face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see me cry.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, trying to dry his shirt. "I'm such a dope."

"No," he said, wiping the last tears from my cheeks. "Apparently, I'm the dope." He smiled his lopsided smile and waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous contortion to illustrate. "I promise you won't wake up alone next time."

I laughed despite myself and smacked playfully at his shoulder. "You're awful sure of yourself! Who says there's going to be a next time?"

His response was to pull me to the couch and then down on top of him in one smooth motion as we collapsed together, warm bodies pressing against each other, lips and hands and hips questing for the taste of the other. His arms cradled me and I buried my face in his chest. We lay there together, enjoying the feel of each other, urgently needing to weave this connection between us. I listened to his heart beat and he caressed my hair while we talked and kissed, then talked some more, sharing our stories and finding meaning in the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

I couldn't sleep. Hobbie had no such problem. His softly breathing form lay beside me in my bed, his bare chest raising and lowering rhythmically.

I lay quietly against him, greedily absorbing the feel of his skin on mine. My cheek rested on his shoulder; my arm hugged his chest. His well muscled arm held me tightly, even in his sleep. Legs entwined, I could feel the full length of his body against mine.

The last week had been a whirlwind of activity. I had spent my days at my post on the Imperial base gathering as much information as I could from the inside and setting up several hidden back doors into not only Maar's files, but also as many Imperial systems as I could access. I knew they wouldn't all last because the routine security sweeps would disable many of them, but I figured the more I could get done, the greater chance the Rebels had.

Hobbie and Wes had spent their days surveilling the Fabritech facility and helping Sgt. Oepoono prepare for their faux raid.

The evenings were mostly spent together. We visited the Rebel safe house twice. Each time, Spike took the opportunity to improve her hand to hand combat skills under the tutelage of Sgt. Oepoono. Wes joined in as well, proving once again that he and Spike were perfect for each other.

Sark asked me to take a look at some codes they were working on, which I gladly did. I was able to break one but the other was a 28-bit hex code that was going to take quite a bit more crunching power than I had available.

Every night we ended up back at the apartment, basking in our time together. I hadn't allowed myself to think about the future. I was trying my hardest to "savor the moment" as Hobbie did so well. Each night, rather than become familiar and comfortable in our routine, the intensity and urgency only built, propelled by the rapidly looming spectre of an end to our time. We didn't discuss what would happen after the mission. I don't think either of us expected anything other than separation.

Now, here we were, on our last night together. Tomorrow we would be sneaking into Lapier's office and the faux raid would take place.

"You could come with us, you know." Hobbie's voice startled me in the darkness. I hadn't realized he had awoken. His hand grasped mine tightly to his chest. "The Alliance could always use a good slicer. Rogue Squadron could help you with your missions." His tone was hopeful; wistful even.

I nodded and buried my face against his chest. "Five days was not enough time," I whispered hoarsely.

He drew me in tighter, forcing me to settle directly on top of him. "I know," he whispered. "We've had some wonderful moments, but I admit I want more, too."

I inhaled his scent deeply, trying to sear the memory on my brain. My fingers traced the outline of his jaw and cheeks and entwined their way through his hair. We lay there, our breath intermingling, simply holding each other.

"Will you ever come home?" I asked finally.

He didn't answer for a while. "When Ralltiir is free, I will visit as often as I can."

I lifted my head. "You don't plan on returning permanently?"

Hobbie's hands were rubbing my back. "Maybe when I retire."

I dropped my head silently into his shoulder.

"Won't you consider joining the Alliance, Nya?" Hobbie's hands extended their caress to my shoulders.

My heart clenched as I struggled to maintain perspective. I ached to say yes just so I could be with him but I knew I couldn't disappoint my father that way. My mission was important to him. It was important for all of Ralltiir. "Maybe when Ralltiir is free." I finally offered.

With one adroit twist, he rolled me over and spread his body on top of mine. His hands pinned my wrists to the bed, his knees separating mine. The unexpected maneuver shocked me, jarring my nerves with a surge of adrenaline that ignited my blood and sent sparks of electric sensation to pool deep in my abdomen. Our eyes met, speaking words neither of us could say out loud. Silently, he claimed me in a joining full of both anguished regret and fierce exultation, searing me with an indelible memory of sensation and passion and the experience of loving a Rogue.


	5. Chapter 5

Spike flashed her badge at the night guard. "We've got work to do," she growled at him.

It was well past dark. Most citizens were beginning their evening festivities celebrating the eve of a non-labor day. Spike made no effort to hide her displeasure at working at this late hour.

I stood beside her with my hands behind my back. I kept Spike between me and the guard so he wouldn't notice the slight bulge where my slicer tools were tucked in my waistband. Behind us, Wes and Hobbie stood impatiently in Imperial uniforms.

"Destination?" the guard barked.

"Office 243B." Spike answered. "Finance data warehouse. Weekly after hours archiving team."

It was a legitimate task and I had arranged for our names to be assigned to the duty roster. Getting Wes and Hobbie on the team has required a little finesse, but it had simply been a matter of forging the badges of two fellow troopers and scheduling them as part of the team. The trick had been not having it show up on their duty schedule until after the raid.

The guard waved us through and we took the lift up to Level 2. We stopped at Office 243B and logged ourselves in the security scanner. Now Spike and I had a verifiable alibi for our presence during the raid.

Spike held the door open while I went inside and initiated the archiving function. Quickly, I returned and we continued down the corridor to the emergency stairwell. A quick jog up two flights of stairs and we were at the Command level where General Lapier's office was.

A tinny, high-pitched alarm sounded simultaneously on all companels in the hall, broadcasting an alert for all duty personnel. That would be Rogue Squadron and Sgt. Oepoono's Special Forces Urban Combat unit initiating their raid on the Fabritech facility. I strained to hear the sounds of the attack but we were too far inside the building. Still, a small thrill of excitement ran up my spine as I imagined the show they were putting on.

Every door we went through followed a pattern: I sliced the security scanner, then stepped back and allowed Spike and Wes to clear the next corridor, weapons in hand. Hobbie took up the rear, sandwiching me between them. We made it to the General's office without incident.

It was deserted, as I had expected for this late hour. Spike led the way as the three of them fanned out across the gauntlet of offices leading up to the Garrison Commander's opulent suite. They cleared each one in turn and waved me through, then took up positions at the entrance. This was the risky part. If we were discovered, there was no other way out. We could only shoot and hope for the best.

I got to work quickly, plugging into Lapier's personal comp station. His system was only protected by the standard Imperial encryption so I was able to access his account relatively easily. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning.

I navigated to the private files he had stored on his system. The new algorithms Sark had given me came in handy and cut the slice time probably in half. I was ecstatic when his personal directories opened for me in less than a quarter hour.

I transferred the entire contents to the datapad for later analysis. Now came the payoff – literally.

Quickly I searched the files for Lapier's bank codes and financial records. I found them in a logically titled directory – Finances. How kind of Lapier to be an unimaginatively organized man, I snarked to myself.

Having confirmed the banking codes and account numbers, I initiated a request for transfer of Lapier's entire portfolio from the various Ralltiir institutions to an anonymous account on the neutral banking planet, Aargau. The legitimacy of the account and the reputation of Aargau would prevent automatic rejection or delay of the request. The large deposit would then trigger an automatic series of transactions designed to obscure the ultimate destination of the money. That destination was, of course, back on Ralltiir in an account held by Rebel sympathizers.

Next, I quickly inserted mine and Spike's names to a list of transfers that Lapier had routinely authorized today and saved the order on a datacard for our travels. It would take a few reassignments to make sure we weren't leaving a trail that could be followed to the next name on our list, but eventually we would end up free and clear and continue with our mission. It was a necessary caution to keep our identities intact.

Having completed my primary tasks, I started to back out of the directories. While erasing all evidence of my presence from the history file, I was startled to notice entries for files that didn't appear in the central directory structure. I would have dismissed them as deleted files except that there was no record of deletions, just additions.

Curious, I followed the binary trail to the physical location of the referenced files and was shocked to discover them hidden under a 28-bit encryption sequence. Such security was extremely expensive and generally used only for the most secret files. I wondered what he would consider more secret and in need of heavy-duty security than his own money.

I pulled the 28-bit datapad from my belt and replaced the standard edition I had been using. I chose my most comprehensive algorithm and set it running. I bit my lip as I pondered how long to wait on it. This could take just a few minutes or it could be days.

The datapad emitted a single beep, indicating it had completed its task and I stared at the now open file eagerly. My curiosity quickly turned to abject horror as I saw that the file consisted of communiqués between General Lapier and none other than Raltiir's planetary governor, Dennix Graeber himself.

I scanned the contents of one message at random, shaking my head in disgust when I saw that it was a discussion of Lapier's black market operation. Corruption in the Empire doesn't just run deep, I snarled mentally, corruption _is_ the Empire and the Empire _is_ corruption.

I was about to close it down and delay further analysis until later when my eye caught sight of a name. Jerrell! My father! The leader of the Ralltiiri resistance.

I read it closely and gasped when I realized Graeber was bragging to Lapier about his plan to defeat Jerrell and the Rebellion. I had to read it three times to make sure I read it correctly. Graeber was directing Lapier to make sure the Rebels received the next shipment of assault weapons.

"Psst, Nya!" Spike stuck her head in the office. "How ya doing?"

"Ready," I replied. The hidden messages made no sense. Why would Graeber want to fortify the Rebellion? I knew he couldn't be a closet sympathizer. Not with the atrocities he had committed. I finished exiting the system invisibly and secured the now full data pads back in my waistband.

Suddenly, a klaxon blared through the building, the pitch wavering in an urgent ululation. The corridor lights dimmed and the red emergency lights glowed.

"Intruder alert!" Spike gasped. "We've been spotted."

"Sithspit! Let's go." I exited the office, tapping Hobbie on the shoulder to indicate he should lead us out. With practiced grace, he swept through the corridors, leading us back toward the stairwell.

The clanking of armored footsteps reverberated from the end of the corridor. The imminent confrontation with the Stormtroopers hurtled us to the nearest wall, squeezing against the narrow support struts for even that negligent cover. I crouched behind Hobbie, his arm flung backwards in an instinctive attempt to hide and guard me.

My hands were shaking from the adrenaline surging through my core. I had done this! It must have been those hidden files. There must have been some trigger somewhere I had missed. Damnation!

My mind snapped rapidfire between horror at my mistake and frantic searching for a way out of our predicament. I yanked the datapad and universal datajack from my waistband and looked for the nearest door. It was a couple of meters behind me.

"This way!" I whispered urgently as the door whooshed open on a dark emptiness. Wes lunged across the exposed hall, followed closely by Spike. Hobbie tumbled in behind me and the door slid shut with a quiet snick.

It was just another office. Our eyes adjusted to the low light as we spread out quickly to explore our temporary reprieve. It was a small office, without any ancillary rooms to hide in. Its one redeeming feature was the window.

"It's only three levels," Wes hissed. "We can jump."

"See if you can find anything to climb down with," Hobbie instructed. "I'm calling for help."

Hobbie pulled out his comm and redirected Rogue Squadron to our location. He turned back to see Wes stripping off his pants.

"What are you doing?" Hobbie's face was full of shocked horror.

"We need a rope of some sort to climb down. If we braid all our pants together, they will be strong enough to hold us."

"Whoa, big boy!" Spike came over from the far side of the room and caught Wes shaking his pants at Hobbie. Her involuntary grin twisted with laughter. "I like what I see but your timing stinks. We've got to get out of her first." She snickered and pinched Wes on the butt as she walked past him carrying some plastine conduit she must have pulled from the wall.

I laughed softly as I hurried to help Spike open the window and lay out the conduit. Hobbie muttered beside me while he scanned the grounds outside. We waited until we heard the unmistakable whine of X-Wing engines and saw the explosion of laser strikes against the perimeter guards.

Then, a mad scramble down the cable and across the yard while Oepoono's waiting commandos laid down suppressive fire.

My heart pounded as I lay prone on the floor of the cargo speeder that ferried us away from the Imperial base. We moved slow so as not to arouse too much suspicion but my flight response was screaming to run like crazy.

"You okay?" Hobbie whispered in my ear. The four of us were entwined together in one big knot of arms and legs where we had fallen together in our wild dash to safety, still panting from the exertion. I looked up to see those sultry brown eyes peering anxiously down at me.

I giggled. I couldn't help it. The compare and contrast between the last time I had seen his face this close to mine and this one struck me as outrageously hilarious.

"You didn't lose your pants, did you Wes?" Spike teased breathlessly.

"Only for you, sugar," he drawled lazily.

We roared with laughter, giddy with relief and weak with the aftermath of the adrenaline spike. I rolled to the side, trying to straighten out in the cramped space. Hobbie let out a low growl and I wiggled next to him.

"Oh wait, that is you, isn't it?" I said saucily next to him. "I'd hate to think Wes is having all the fun."

We giggled together, poking and stretching around each other all the way back to the Rebel safe house. It was a long ride as the driver wanted to make sure we weren't followed but I reveled in the closeness. After all, it wasn't often you got an excuse for a group cuddle.


	6. Chapter 6

Luke Skywalker's face frowned in concern. The full contents of the hidden files I had found were displayed on a flimsi he held in front of him, the script scrolling by as he read. The other Rebels around the table held similar expressions, many squirming uncomfortably as they reviewed their own copies of the flimsi.

"I don't get it." Spike broke the silence with her usual candor. "Why would Governor Graeber _want_ us to have weapons? I thought he was out to destroy us."

"He is." Luke's quiet words were potent. "And his plan is brilliant in its perversity. Worthy of the Emperor himself, really."

I cocked my head and waited for him to explain because I sure didn't get it either.

"It gives him an excuse." Wedge revealed. "Ralltiir is a world split almost in half in terms of public opinion. The Empire won a battle and controls Ralltiir – for now. It could easily swing back to the Alliance."

"All the more reason not to let us have the means to fight." I countered.

"No," Luke said. "This gives him the justification he needs to quiet the large portion of the population that is sympathetic to the Alliance. The more the Resistance blows things up the tighter he can spin his control. With a greater threat comes a greater response."

"But what are we supposed to do?" Spike sputtered. "We can't just stop fighting. I won't!" She bolted from her chair and paced the length of the table.

"Nya," she said emphatically. "We have to tell Jerrell."

I nodded in agreement, knowing this information had to get back to my father. I didn't fully comprehend the ramifications of it all, but I knew he had to be told.

"Do you have a line of communication back into Ralltiir? The blockade is still very much in place." Hobbie pointed out the political realities of the moment.

I sighed. "We could transmit it via the anonymous banking account, but that would take time and could always be intercepted. No, I think we have to do this in person." I bit my lip, torn between joy at the thought of going home and a strong desire to finish my mission. We had only "liberated" the funds of five Imperial pet Ralltiiri so far. I had a long list to get through. "I'll slice some new orders for us assigning us to the Garrison on Ralltiir. We should get safe passage under our Imperial cover."

Spike's eyes flashed and she nodded her approval. She stopped pacing and sat back down next to Wes. His hand covered hers and she gripped it tight. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a soft smile.

"Are you sure your covers are secure? We were detected back at Garrison Headquarters, remember. Maybe they know who you are." Hobbie's tone was doubtful.

"Um, yeah, I think that was my fault." I admitted reluctantly. "I must have tripped some alarms when I found those hidden files. The good news is that means they didn't catch us on vid. As long as nobody realizes we never logged out of the building last night, we should be good."

"The Alliance may have some couriers you could use." Luke offered. "We maintain contact with many people on Ralltiir."

"Thank you for your kind offer, Commander," I acknowledged him with a nod. "But I think Jerrell would want us to personally insure the delivery of this information. We will do it."

"Very well." Luke acquiesced. "May the Force be with you."

The meeting broke up and I fumbled to gather my belongings. I had already given Sark a datacard with all the passcodes and backdoors I had left behind. The Albecus resistance was in his capable hands. The only thing left was the one thing I didn't want to do.

"Uhm-hmm." Wedge cleared his throat apologetically behind us. "We need to get moving." Wes and Spike stood casually beside him, Wes's arm draped over Spike's shoulders and her arm wrapped around his waist, refusing to let go of each other until the last possible moment. "Spike, Nya, it was a pleasure meeting you. I sincerely hope we meet again."

He shook our hands and turned to Wes and Hobbie. "We'll meet at the rendezvous point in precisely one hour." He inspected the four of us with a suspicious eye. "You will be there, right?"

"Yes, sir," Hobbie assured him dryly. "We'll be there."

"On time?" Wedge persisted.

"On time," Wes assured him. "We all understand the stakes."

"Very good, then." Wedge nodded, releasing us. "Go make the best of it."

The silence in the airspeeder was overwhelming; the ache too devastating to allow words. Hobbie was driving with one hand, the other holding mine tightly. I cradled his hand in my lap, staring at it, trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

Spike and Wes sat in the back, side by side, unusually quiet for the pair.

"Well that was a blast while it lasted." Spike broke the silence finally. She took a deep breath. "It was a hell of a week."

"One I won't be forgetting any time soon, let me tell you," Wes vowed as he pulled her in tighter. "You will try to contact us, won't you? You know I'll always be up for more fun with you. Any time, any where. You just name it."

I listened to them promise more good times ahead and then came only the sounds of kissing and cuddling. I squeezed Hobbie's hand tighter and he squeezed back. We had already said our words to each other. I couldn't bear to speak the only remaining two left to say, but as much as I didn't want it to end, this prolonged farewell was torturous.

I brought his hand up to kiss his fingers and he extended them to caress my cheek. He smiled gently, lovingly and then pulled away to use both hands for steering. The traffic was picking up now. Dawn was breaking and the morning traffic was filling up the city despite the fact that it was a non-labor day.

Haste was important. We were only going back to the apartment long enough for us to pack our belongings before we boarded the first Imperial ship that would carry us back to Ralltiir. At the Rebel safehouse I had sliced the datacard to change our newly assigned duty station to Ralltiir. It wasn't backed up by the Imperial mainframe, but it should serve the purpose as long as there were no major inspections.

Sgt. Maar would find a copy of the original transfer orders on his comp station his next duty day. Whether he connected it to this night's activities was irrelevant. We would be long gone.

"Hang on!" Hobbie's alarmed voice rang out in the speeder and he hurriedly twisted the steering yoke, causing me to lurch heavily against the door. I got a quick view of white armor and Imperial speeder bikes before Hobbie's abrupt maneuvering took us in a sharp U-turn back the way we had come.

"Stormtroopers!" Spike exclaimed, hanging on to her seat tightly. "How did they know?" Behind her, the two troopers saw our abrupt exit and jumped on their speeder bikes to follow us.

"Uh-oh," I breathed, my heart pounding. "Maybe they did get a vid."

"Doubtful," answered Hobbie tightly, his focus fully on his piloting yet still processing our conversation. "If they had identified you from vid there would be more than just two stormies on bikes. There'd probably be a whole squad or more waiting for you."

He drove the speeder into heavy traffic, hoping to limit the advantage the faster speeder bikes had. Weaving through the congested roads he squeezed his way between an assortment of private passenger and commercial cargo speeders. Unfortunately, the bikes were also more maneuverable amidst the traffic and they continued to narrow the gap between us.

"We're never going to outrun them in this nerf cart." Wes warned grimly, pulling his blaster and preparing to target the speeders. "On the plus side, there's only two of them – for now."

Spike had her blaster out, too, and was leaning out the window, scanning the traffic, looking for something.

"The security scanner!" I blurted. "They must have been checking on our failure to log out last night. If they were just curious before, they're going to be suspicious for sure now!"

Nobody responded to that. All three were busy looking for a way out of our problem. Trying to protect me, I realized.

"Hobbie," Spike said slowly, "remember that little game we used to play called Jawa Trader?"

At his nod, she pointed down one of the many side streets going perpendicular to the major avenue we were currently on. "Pick one that looks like there are lots of speeders parked on it. When you find a good airspeeder, stop for 2 seconds, then go around the block."

Spike turned to Wes. "I pry, you fly?" Wes nodded his understanding. I'm glad he knew what she was talking about because I sure didn't.

"Gotcha." Hobbie nodded his approval and abruptly swung out of traffic around the outside lane. He ducked back in the flow in front of an extra large cargo repulser truck, placing it between us and the Imperial speeders following us. Immediately, he jerked hard to the left and decelerated rapidly, sending me lurching again, this time into the front panel.

Spike and Wes jumped out and Hobbie grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Relax. Spike's got it under control. We're going to swing around. The next time we stop, you will have to jump out and get in with Wes and Spike."

By the time he finished explaining, he had already jetted several unit blocks down the side road and taken two turns to the left. We pulled back on the major avenue and blended into traffic. There was no sign of the Imperial speeders but the traffic control boards were now flashing an alert for our area. My heart sank as I realized the Imperials had probably called in our vehicle and issued a bulletin for all the local authorities.

Hobbie banked left again and we were back on the side street we had started on. A ubiquitous Incom T-47 air speeder was pulled out from a residence parking facility at an odd angle, revving its engine. Wes sat behind the wheel, watching our approach intently. Spike sat up on the door with her blaster drawn, ready to defend our escape.

Hobbie slammed on the brakes. "Go, go, go, go!" he shouted but didn't wait to see if I complied. He reached down to the regulator and jimmied the switch, then locked the steering column in place. The landspeeder jolted forward and sped away by itself as Hobbie rolled from his pilot's seat onto the ground.

Immediately, he was up and jumping into the airspeeder beside me.

Wes opened the throttle wide and gunned the airspeeder straight up. He took us over the roof tops of the residences, hugging their profile as close as possible. Wes' "possible" appeared to be pretty damn close and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't embarrass myself.

Hobbie reached over and buckled my safety harness, then pulled his blaster and twisted around to complete his transition from pilot to soldier.

Wes stayed parallel to the major avenue for only a short while before angling off on an intersecting throughway that led to elevated airspeeder traffic lanes. Looking back, I could see a glimmer of white in the traffic and imagined the stormtroopers were well and truly confused as to our position. I hoped that was true.

This was the first time our mission had gone sour. Lapier had been our fifth target. The others had all proceeded smoothly. We had gotten in, found the banking codes, and gotten out without incident. This mission had been unusual from the beginning, what with Maar's blackmarket operation and then Hobbie and Wes.

An unwelcome thought intruded suggesting I had allowed myself to be distracted from the parameters of my mission. If I had stuck to the successful pattern and been expeditious about my slicing, we wouldn't be here now. We wouldn't have met Hobbie and Wes, either.

I shook away the guilt and refused to be sorry for spending time with Hobbie.

My stomach floated up to my throat as Wes dove the airspeeder into an alley way. He travelled along the dark corridor for quite a distance, stopping cautiously at every intersection to check for Imperial or local authorities. Soon he emerged onto a very busy thoroughfare and merged with the traffic. Following the flow, he took to the overhead skyway and we sped along in the anonymous airspeeder.

"Now what?" I asked. "I don't think we're going to be able to bluff our way onto the Imperial transport and most likely all the commercial flights will be watched."

"We'll be lucky if they don't lock down the entire spaceport." Wes said.

"I doubt that," I said. "Remember your shipment with Maar this morning? Lapier will be unwilling to lose that revenue. Your smuggler's ship will be allowed through at a minimum."

"Then that's where you need to be." Hobbie was looking at me with an expression that said he wasn't taking no for an answer. "With us."

"Commander Skywalker did offer to help us get back to Ralltiir," Spike supplied hopefully.

I nodded, chewing my lip. I really didn't see any other alternative. "Alright," I agreed. "But we have to get this information back to Ralltiir at the first opportunity. No distractions." I felt guilty enough already for blowing this mission.

Wes had guided the airspeeder to a private warehouse facility past the western most edge of the city. Rows of huge hangars lined the grid of dusty roads. He dove down to ground level and navigated to a hangar that was identical to the rest except for the identifying numbers marked above the huge door. He tapped his comm badge and the door opened just enough for him to enter.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a beat up YT-1300 freighter parked in the hangar. It displayed a faded blue paint job with the scrubbed outline of some illegible corporate logo still faintly visible. Burns and dings and grime covered the outside.

"Yep, that's a smuggler's freighter, alright!" Spike announced cheerily. She grinned and hopped out of the airspeeder.

Luke and Wedge were approaching from the left and she jauntily snapped to attention and saluted. "Sirs! Private Rinni Spikkoli reporting for duty!" She tried but couldn't quite keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up into a grin.

"Spike, you are entirely too happy to be here," I growled behind her. "Drop the saluting. You look silly."

She just grinned bigger. "I admit, I am not displeased with this turn of events."

"Commander Skywalker, Commander Antilles." I acknowledged the Rogue leaders. "I apologize for our unexpected arrival. Unfortunately, we had no choice."

"Stormtroopers were waiting at the apartment." Hobbie had come up and was standing behind me. "The Imp's will be looking for them now. They've got no other way out."

Luke nodded. "It appears the Force is with you. I just received orders for Rogue Squadron's next mission – on Ralltiir. My offer to take you with us still stands."

I was jubilant at the unexpected fortuitousness. Perhaps there really was something to this Force thing. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate that."

"Luke." He smiled. "Call me Luke."

"You can join the crew of the freighter." Wedge stepped forward. "When we get back to the base, we can discuss the insertion into Ralltiir."

A muffled squeal escaped from Spike and she bounced up and down on her toes. She turned to Wes and saluted again, this time with considerably more sass and a wiggle of her hips. "Private Spikkoli reporting for duty, Captain!"

Wes cocked his head to the side, raking Spike's exuberant form with his dark eyes. "Nah, Hobbie's Captain today. I'm the gunner, remember?"

"Aw, hell, that's not fair." Spike threw her arms around Wes as she bounced up and down against him. "You're just going to have to captain my ship later."

I snickered and followed Hobbie up the ramp into the battered freighter. "How much time do we have before your scheduled pickup from Maar?"

Hobbie slowed down to let me catch up and we walked through the narrow corridor together. "Just enough to get there on time if we leave right now." He stopped just outside the cockpit, blocking my path. Turning around, he bent his head to mine and spoke softly. "I'm sorry your mission is more difficult now, but I have to admit that I'm just as thrilled as Spike is that you're here." He gave me a quick peck on the forehead and entered the cockpit.

I followed him in and stood behind him. "You know this information is critical, right? This could mean the difference between winning and losing freedom for Ralltiir. It could save a lot of lives."

He nodded without turning around. "I know. You're absolutely right."

When he didn't continue but started on his pre-flight checks, I sat down in the co-pilot's seat beside him. "I'm not much of a pilot but I'm a pretty good navigator."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye briefly and nodded his agreement. I pulled up the flight plan and started on the calculations.

"Gunner One in place." Wes' voice crackled through the comm system.

"Gunner Two in place." Spike's sultry alto followed his. I should have known she would be taking the other laser cannon.

We engaged the repulsor lifts and exited the hangar, heading for an orbital vector. Several X-Wings followed us out of the hangar, but split in opposite directions. They would be using different trajectories and join us later at a rendezvous point near the jump coordinates in order to avoid attracting too much attention.

Hobbie and I worked quietly together throughout the orbital transit. I fed him the navigational data and he guided the ship smoothly through the transitions. We were up and back down into Albecus Primary Spaceport and my mind was still churning on the conflicting desires to be with Hobbie and free Ralltiir at the same time. An ache was building up in my gut where the tense thrill of our escape was being replaced by the heart-breaking tension of our looming separation.

"Why don't you go with me?" I braved saying it out loud. Surely he saw the possibility as well. "Ralltiir's your home!" My voice cracked and I held my breath to stop the sob before it could emerge. "I could be your home." I finished weakly.

His head bowed a bit and his hand froze momentarily on the panel. Then he guided the ship in to our assigned landing bay and slowly settled it down on the pad. He sighed deeply. "I could actually see that happening."

My heart constricted painfully at his confession but I said nothing, paralyzed by an insane moment of hope that he would actually agree. The air between us was too raw to bear any more contact so we sat in the small cockpit seats running our post-landing flight checks, not touching or even daring to look at each other.

"I'm a pilot, Nya," Hobbie explained. "Ralltiir's ground resistance doesn't need pilots. It needs fighters like Spike and slicers like you, but not pilots. The Alliance needs pilots. They need me."

I focused on the display in front of me and forced myself to read the navigational data for our outbound trip. I could start on the calculations now if I made a few assumptions. Exact speed and position were critical to accurate hyperspace jumps. It was possible to jump without exact figures but it was risky. Very risky. I could narrow that risk if I estimated our velocity and exit vector. I doubted we would need it but it never hurt to have contingency plans.

"Stay here, Nya. We don't want Maar to recognize you." Hobbie left the cockpit.

I continued my calculations, running through a simulation of a dozen different scenarios. The mental activity was soothing. My bruised emotions had quieted and the churning in my stomach had dissipated enough by then that I could actually think about what Hobbie had said.

I could see that this pained him as much as it pained me. I didn't doubt his sincerity. If nothing else, I had learned that Derek 'Hobbie' Kilivian meant what he said. In fact, I had learned quite a bit from Hobbie this past week, I mused. That man was going to be with me for a very long time, even if it was just in memory.

I flipped the ship's comm on and the cockpit filled up with the conversation from the cargo hold. I immediately recognized Maar's voice barking orders to his men to load the 'surplus' equipment. At least this part of the mission would be a success.

Wes was there, too, growling at the cargo handlers to be careful and refusing to be docked for their incompetence. I snickered at his constant tirade of alternating boasts and threats and realized that he had a good future as a smuggler if he wanted it.

I wondered where Hobbie was and turned on the cargo bay holovids. Hobbie was standing with his arms crossed, his expression surly but silent. His desperado demeanor was actually quite sexy though I doubted he intended it that way. I giggled as I watched Maar glower back at Hobbie, puffing out his chest to show he wasn't intimidated by his stare.

The cargo transfer was quickly completed and Hobbie returned to the cockpit. My misery lessened but I still couldn't shake the gloomy sadness at our impending separation. It hung on me like a cold weather overcoat despite the fact that the man was sitting right beside me.

"Do we have a departure vector from port control?" His attention went immediately to the panel as he started pre-flight checks.

I pulled up the comm frequency and requested our clearance. "The Imperials haven't restricted departures. They don't seem to be aware of our presence."

"Not yet." Hobbie said ominously. "Let's get going as quick as possible."

I helped Hobbie finish the checks and prep the repulsors for a quick exit. The clearance from Port Control took several prompts and I started to get a little worried. Hobbie taxied the freighter to a position above the hangar that would allow for an emergency flight, if need be.

The clearance did finally come and we sprinted to the departure vector. One flip of the switch and the ion engines engaged, hurling us up through the atmosphere.

"Wes, Spike, keep an eye out for eyeballs." Hobbie told them on the comm.

"Say what?" Spike sounded confused.

"TIE fighters," Wes explained.

"Oh, good," she responded on the comm. "I want to shoot something."

It didn't look like she would get her wish as we cleared atmosphere without incident. I knew that Commander Skywalker – Luke – and the rest of Rogue Squadron were on a parallel course, but we wouldn't see them unless there was trouble. Our rendezvous point was all the way on the other side of the system.

I switched to Rogue Squadron's frequency to report in and was shocked to hear the comm traffic of a firefight.

"There's one on your tail, Rogue Three."

"I see it. Engaging now."

"Cut starboard!"

"I got him!"

Hurriedly, I flicked the comm on the channel so we could all hear the traffic. Hobbie immediately adjusted the HUD and turned on his mike.

"Rogue Four to Rogue Leader. We're on our way."

Immediately Luke responded. "Negative, Rogue Four. We need you to maintain your heading. You may respond if engaged but your mission has highest priority."

"Roger that, Rogue Leader. But just so you know, our exit vector goes straight through you."

There was a slight pause this time. "Roger that, Rogue Four. I guess we'll just have to clear the way."

Hobbie switched to internal communications and keyed the mike again. "Be ready for incoming, Wes and Spike. Looks like we're heading into a fight."

"Roger that." Wes acknowledged.

"I'm ready," said Spike.

I sat tensely in my co-pilot's seat, reviewing my hyperspace calculations. A fight could throw off our vectors unpredictably. I ran the numbers for a few more possible exit vectors and then fiddled with the sensors, trying to extend them for Hobbie as much as possible.

I stole a glance at him sideways. His muscles tensed against his shirt sleeves and he held his shoulders square. His hand rested deceptively loosely on the controls. His eyes searched the horizon rapidly, alternating between his HUD and the viewport. There wasn't a hint of fear or worry in them.

He looked comfortable; ready. I pondered the right word to describe him. He wasn't eager to go into battle like I had heard some pilots were, but he didn't shy away from it either. Confident, I decided. Professional was another word that fit. And, for the first time since I had known him, he looked like he was in his element.

"They're coming up on port side, Spike," Wes warned. "Prepare to engage, just like I showed you."

"Don't you worry none about me, Gunner." Spike shot back. "You just worry about keeping up."

"Keep a running count of your shots," Wes advised. "Low score buys drinks for all."

"Your on, flyboy!" Spike sounded as pumped as I'd ever heard her and I suddenly longed for Spike's ability to revel in the excitement of whatever came her way. I knew it took courage and determination to focus on what is and not get bogged down by what isn't. 'Savoring,' Hobbie called it. Whatever word you used, it was the same thing. I wondered if Spike and Hobbie knew how much I admired that.

"Rogue Five here for clean up." Wes broadcast on the Rogue Squadron frequency. "Did you leave anything for me?"

I could see on the sensors that Rogue Squadron was still engaged by a half dozen TIE fighters. Judging from the count of the relatively stationary sensor hits that I guessed were destroyed fighters, I figured Lapier must have sent his entire squadron of TIEs after Rogue Squadron.

"I guess this is why we had no problem leaving the spaceport," I remarked. "Lapier must have thought you Rebels were responsible and was waiting for you to leave."

Hobbie just grunted in response and twisted the freighter on its axis in order to give the two gunners clear shots at the oncoming TIEs. The sound of laser cannons being fired in rapid staccato filtered all the way through to the cockpit.

"Yee-haw!" yelled Spike. "I got one!"

"Watch the friendlies!" Wes coached her. "Keep the eyeballs off their tails if you can."

Their shots continued as the battle waged around us. Now there were only four TIEs remaining. I checked our hyperspace window and was relieved that we were still on course for the programmed jump.

"Rogue Four, they're massing on you!" The comm crackled urgently with Wedge's voice.

"I see them," Hobbie responded calmly and switched to ship comms. "Wes, they've spotted us."

I watched as the view out the front viewport spun around to orient us toward the majority of Rogue Squadron. Hobbie had pirouetted the freighter in a move I knew had not been easy yet I saw nothing but relaxed ease and quiet confidence in his form.

He piloted the freighter in an unpredictable dance full of graceful shifts and skillful dodges, always giving Wes and Spike the best angle on the pursuers. I watched the battle on the sensors because it was impossible to judge otherwise. The view out the forward viewport showed nothing remarkable, only an occasional quick flash of something speeding by.

I wondered how the X-Wing pilots could track the nearly 180 degrees of view they had plus their HUD. I marveled at the situational awareness they must have to be able to track all those fast moving bodies in motion. I understood then what Hobbie meant when he said the Alliance needed him. There probably weren't too many beings that could pilot an X-Wing through that. At least, not many that would survive to do it over and over again like Hobbie and Wes did.

My heart threatened to plummet at that profound insight, but I hissed in irritation and forced myself to look at Hobbie the way Spike would if she were in my shoes. This amazing, talented man was sitting right next to me and here I was, wasting the little time we had left thinking about the time we wouldn't have!

"That's it. The last two are bugging out. Prepare for jump," Luke's voice instructed. "See everyone back at the ranch."

I jerked myself back into motion and input the calculations I had prepared. Hobbie pushed the lever to jump us into hyperspace and suddenly it was all over.

The silence contrasted sharply with the brilliant streaks of light outside the viewport. I sat numbly, listening to the almost imperceptible hum of the ship being drowned out by the thumping of my own heart. An involuntary trembling betrayed my relief that the combat was over and we had survived but it was soon consumed by an overwhelming wash of pure awe at what I had just seen.

"You do that every day?" I managed weakly.

Hobbie chuckled. "No. Not every day."

"Stang." That was all my eloquent tongue would say.

"Wes is buying!" Spike crowed over the ship comm. "Did you see that, Nya? Wasn't that something!"

"Yes, Spike," I agreed. "It sure was." I met Hobbie's eyes then and didn't try to hide my admiration for him. "That was pretty stang hot, flyboy." I grinned then, just like Spike did, finally understanding her obsession with enjoying every moment. It didn't matter what was going to happen tomorrow or the next day. It didn't matter what burdens may come or what tragedy may strike. All that mattered was that I was here, I was alive, and this was real. I could _feel_ it.

Hobbie grinned back but didn't banter the way I'm sure Wes would have. He keyed his mike. "Let's do our system checks then meet in the cockpit in 30 minutes."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "System checks don't take 30 minutes."

He didn't look at me but instead ruthlessly kept to the scripted routine of system checks. "Patience," he murmured.

Silently, I ran through the checks with him and waited restlessly for Wes and Spike to arrive, the tension within me growing. I found it difficult to keep focused on the panel in front of me, my eyes continuously wandering to Hobbie's taut muscles and supple hands that had piloted the freighter so expertly.

When Wes and Spike finally arrived – 40 minutes later – they were grinning and breathless. I knew then what they had been doing and why Hobbie had given them the extra time.

"Hot damn, Nya!" she exclaimed happily. "That was a hell of a ride." She came in and gave both Hobbie and I an exuberant hug. "Fancy flying there, Hobbie," she said appreciatively, patting him on the cheek. "The Empire lost a stang good pilot when you left!"

Hobbie stood up and exchanged places with Wes. "It's a six hour jump back to base." He held his hand out to me. When I took it, he pulled me up and nudged Spike into my place.

"I believe two shifts are in order. You two can take first watch." He started out the door and down the corridor, pulling me behind him. "We'll relieve you…. eventually."

I followed Hobbie joyfully through the corridors of the old YT-1300 freighter. His steps were hurried, impatient. Though he had made no comment to me and his movements had been very controlled in the cockpit, his whole demeanor now reeked of lusty enthusiasm and intensely erotic anticipation. I couldn't agree more.

The adrenaline surged through me, triggering pulses of sensation through my blood that settled low in my torso, building a pressure that was rapidly overwhelming my senses.

I grinned at the incredible high as Hobbie abruptly stopped just inside the crew quarters and pinned me roughly against the bulkhead. A gasp escaped as he claimed a sensitive spot on my neck, marking me. His hips thrust hard against mine, tantalizing me in a style that was uniquely and excruciatingly Hobbie.

A flash of rational thought was all I that penetrated the rush of sensation. I was on a ship in the company of the galaxy's finest pilots on my way to deliver critical information that might save my world. At this moment – the only moment that mattered - I had a cause, I had a plan, and I had my man.

What more could a girl want?

--ooOoo--

_A/N – So I am officially one of those chickensh** authors who cannot kill off their characters. This story was originally intended to be about Hobbie and his heartbreaking luck in love. Nya's story was always intended to end in tragedy. BUT I JUST CAN'T DO IT._

_I'm ending this story now. They're happy. They're flying off into the sunset. They both have a rosy future… as far as they know…. I just can't spoil it for them._

_Poor Hobbie!_


End file.
